Slave to Darkness
by Poxy Kirkman
Summary: He tutted a little, shifting himself so he straddled lower down her body, leaning his long torso over her, pressing his lips against her jaw, kissing her gently. He trailed butterfly kisses up along her jaw, her cheek, then pressed his lips against her ear. "My darling, your begging has never stopped me before... what makes you think now will be different?"
1. Chapter 1

**_Your mind is meant to be yours, but something dark and terrible can always occupy it. You can always have nightmares._**

Just planned as a one shot, might add to it with popular demand or if I feel like it, but I think it's quite good as is (though I would, I wrote it.)

Thanks all :)

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And there was darkness.

She lay there, fighting off the chill and losing so terribly, her body succumbing to shivering violently, and her lips trembled as she tried to find the words. Any words. Just something to say, to spit out, to make her look less weak. In the strangest sense, it seemed almost ethereal, which she knew it wasn't. It was the complete opposite, and she could not have thought of a word to contrast so powerfully to what it actually was. But large blue eyes looked about the room she was in... the cavern of sorts, the bottom of a pit she could not climb up from, and she saw how light pooled in around the top, so brightly white and glistening in the most beautiful, unobtainable way, and how cold it looked.

Cold and dark. How well they went together.

Her lips felt oh, so very numb. She knew there were no words to say, nothing she could whisper in defiance of what had happened or shout to the shadows around her to fight them off. Her strength went from her a long time ago. He'd been very clever about it really, starving her to make her weak, hurting her to break her spirit, break her belief that she would be rescued. And then he'd come as a comforter, whisper apologies she knew were false and hold in her with such fake tenderness that it made her feel sick, but she couldn't refuse him at those moments, he wasn't hurting her now, and he'd slip her a sip of water and a piece of bread and she would pray for that moment again. He got her to the point where she would beg for those moments again, weeping and grovelling just like he wanted her to, because the pain was too much to bare, and she would rather do anything he wanted and be granted a moment to cuddle up to him, steal warmth and be rewarded with a little sustenance that be beaten again, have it forced from her. It was easier to give it away that have it stolen, and that was just what he wanted. The easier it was to get, the better, right?

She knew how it worked, knew his sick twisted mind in a way she'd never wanted to... but if you're held in a nightmare, in your own personal hell, then you get to know the person holding you there.

Especially if nightmares are where he resides... Oh, you get to know him like you know yourself.

Shifting slightly, she rolled from her back, where she felt too vulnerable, to her side. Curling into the foetal position, she held herself still, holding back sobs and chokes of anger and frustration, and stared at the wall opposite her. At least, she thought it was a wall... she didn't know where the walls started and the floor ended, and she was too weak to go and find out. It was just all dark, and that was all she knew, and she'd rather keep it that way than go and find out otherwise. Find out it was possibly far worse over there than it was where she lay. Or perhaps that's all she had to do. All she needed was to gather herself together and move, and then she'd be granted her freedom. But that seemed too easy, didn't it? She could be killed if she left this spot, he was that cruel a man, he might take joy from slitting her throat or pulling her so deep into the shadows nobody would hear her screaming any more, not that there would be any screams left to rip from her throat.

Blue eyes wandered, piercing the shadows, and then in a blink there were hundreds of golden eyes staring back at her, and she gulped slightly, but she knew what was coming, and she was ready for them this time. It was one cackle first, then another. They surrounded her, one by one, laughing at her and mocking her, calling her out and whispering such hateful things it would make her heart hurt. As they started she tried to reassure herself that it was all just nonsense, all just a bad dream and she knew it wasn't true, so it shouldn't bother her, but psychologically, it was damaging. This happened everyday. Every time she noticed the light and longed to be free, the darkness just seemed so much more intense, so much thicker and stronger and more cruel to her. It was worse than when he took her body from her, because this was taking her soul...

"No," she whispered, finally finding her voice. But it was so broken, so quiet, it only made them louder. The cackles redoubled, the jests became louder, and then the roaring started, and the snorts of wild animals that would kill her... That she hoped would kill her, because now after so long it seemed death was the only way out, the only kind end to this nightmare. She felt the tears slipping down her cheeks before she was aware she'd begun crying, her thin body shaking from the cold, the fear, and from her sobs. But this only spurred them on, which she knew. The fed themselves on her fear, and she couldn't do anything to stop that. She couldn't be brave any more. She couldn't stand up and fight them away with what little happiness she had had. There was none left in her to do it, and she felt her lips moving, mouthing the pleas for help she begged for everyday, mouthing her apologies and promising she'd be good.

'You can have anything... anything! Just please, please make it stop.'

Over and over and over.

Again and again.

The screams got louder, and louder and her ears hurt and her body trembled, and then after minutes she realised the voices were gone, the shrieks were ripping themselves from her throat, and her body twisted painfully, fighting away the beings that were no longer there. Screaming louder, longer, tears streaking down her pale cheeks, dripping onto her bare chest as she bolted upright, some force baring her upwards, holding her up, and she felt his warm hands, heard him shushing her, and she tried to push him away in his panic. His calm was what scared her most, the way he conducted himself. Only ever appeared when she was in such a state as she couldn't do much else, and she was trying to fight him away, trying to be strong for once. If she were strong, it would all stop. It had to stop.

"Hush now, please," he said quietly, and he screams died a little in her throat, and with each soothing word, each time he rocked her thin body in her long arms, as he cradled her, they died more and more, and her dignity died with them, and she huddled against him, sobbing, clinging to him, the only source of warmth there was, the only comforter in this dark place. She knew why he was here, and she would give him her body again if it meant the voices were gone for a few more hours, perhaps even another day if she were lucky. He would show her that affection she sorely longed for right now, would kiss her broken body and hold her.

"What are the screams for, my darling?" he asked quietly, his voice soothing, but it made her tremble in fear.

"The voices," she whispered hoarsely, blue eyes darting to the dark walls. He tutted and brushed her long brown hair back, placing a soft kiss upon her temple and shushing her.

"There are no voices, my darling, you're imagining them," he told her, and she shook her head in defiance, the rare time she ever did.

"They, they scream, and say hor- horrible things," she sobbed, her voice weak and her throat so sore it hurt to talk. "They're real," she pressed, and she heard him keep tutting, humming softly to quieten her and her sobs. Stop her grievances.

"They're only in your mind, my darling, there are no voices here, no monsters lurking in the dark," he whispered, and she seethed silently, tensing up in his arms as she did, so angry she wanted to burst, but she couldn't, she couldn't outwardly defy him, not again. The only monster here was him, and he had come into that small stream of light that had always illuminated her. Always told her where she could lay and could not. Always kept her in her place. It was a cruel mind trick he played on her, because light was meant to be freeing, was meant to be warm. This light kept her prisoner, kept her cold.

"You're just imagining it, my darling," he said softly, repeating himself over and over until she stopped shaking her head, until she was still in his arms, until she nodded in agreement, unsure of what to think for herself. He was always so sure... he could be right, couldn't he?

"There is nothing to fear, my darling, do you understand?" he asked, and she nodded slowly, unsure if he was right or not, and he sensed the uncertainty in her, sensed the fear.

"Repeat it," he hissed so suddenly it made her jump and her blue eyes darted from the wall where they'd been fixed for a long time to his face, to his golden eyes, and she nodded again, acknowledging the command.

"There is nothing to fear," she whispered slowly, and he nodded, smiling widely, his golden eyes growing brighter, and he praised her with a kiss.

"Good girl, now say it again," he said slowly, his lips awfully close to her ear, making her shiver slightly. She knew what was coming.

"There is nothing to fear," she whispered again, only quieter, her eyes shutting as she anticipated what would happen next. And as always he threw her from his lap, stood above her angrily, staring down. Of course she was wrong, there was always something to fear, and that was him. She should fear everything about him. Absolutely, undeniably, he was the essence of fear... she should have told him that before, but he'd have punished her for saying other than what he told her to say. Now she hadn't said it, he would still become angry. She was damned either way. Before he could become so irate she pushed herself to her knees before him, looking up at him with tears in her blue eyes, pleading with him silently, begging him not to hurt her, and then she spoke up, trying to redeem herself;

"Except you!" she cried, and his eyes narrowed at her, and he looked down with such contempt... but curiosity. "There is nothing to fear... but you."

She was stroking his ego now, she knew, but it was her only chance and she'd take it if she had to. She didn't want him to beat her again, she couldn't take it at this moment.

He looked at her with curious eyes, but the smirk was playing at his face, and then he stooped so his face was level with hers, smirk still in place and he chuckled slightly, bringing his hand up and wiping stray tears from her cheeks and caressing her face gently.

"You're learning now, how not to be punished... clever girl," he said smugly, and she broke eye contact, looking at the ground she sat on. He didn't like her looking away though, and pulled her chin back up forcefully so her eyes were looking into his. "Come now, don't be so shy. Such a beautiful girl... shame you're trapped in such an ugly nightmare... come here," he whispered, hissing through his teeth, and she had no choice but to let him scoop her up into his arms and hold her on his lap. She felt his hands wandering, across her chest and then down to her stomach, rubbing his thumb along her concave stomach that only showed how malnourished she was. Then he let his fingers trail lower, and she hissed and looked away.

"My darling, what's wrong? Are you defying me, now? Should I punish you instead?" he whis[ered, his voice terribly cruel. She shook her head, allowed him to carry on, tears streaming down her face as he went about his nightly ritual. And after a few moments, he made love to her... if she could call it that. She stayed quiet, looked away, let him do it because she'd grown tired of resisting him and being beaten because of it. She didn't care any more, why should she? The more she cared the harder this all seemed, and she was past giving a damn because that only ever seemed to get her into trouble with the man... the monster.

He'd taken her childhood from her, her innocence and wonder and it was the only thing she'd been really proud of, how she was able to see the magic in things. He'd stripped her bare of all of it. Her wonder, her innocence, her dignity, her pride... it all went with her virginity. At least theoretically so. He'd taken it all in one fell swoop, and he'd never let her forget, not in this lifetime. She was his favourite play thing, she always would be, she knew.

When he finished he left her, moved to the doorway and chuckled cruelly. She looked around at him, at his tall thin frame, at his golden eyes and cruel smile... how she hated Pitch Black... how she always found herself drowning in it though. The darkness around her was him, he had consumed her so... and he laughed cruelly, as if knowing her thoughts, and said;

"You can wake up now."

"Wake up..."

"Wake up."

"Wake up!"

And she started awake, crying out in panic as strong hands shook her, and she gasped in fright before her father pulled her into his arms. She trembled and cried, and he rocked her back and forth, not unlike Pitch had done, but his embrace was truly loving. His warmth made her know he cared, whereas Pitch's had been false. She was only safe in his arms, because he could chase the bad dreams away... she wasn't safe in her own mind. She wasn't safe in her sleep.

"Daddy," she whispered, clinging to him, holding onto him for dear life, and he cradled her like he had done when she was a child, like he had for years as she grew when she'd fallen and scraped her knee, or when she'd been tormented... those things hadn't mattered to her though, because she could get over them, escape them. There was no way for her to leave the confines of her own mind, to escape the prison Pitch had set up for her inside herself...

"Bad dream?" her father asked, and she nodded mutely, and he stemmed the river of tears with a small kiss to her cheek, took her to the kitchen and made her hot chocolate – the best she ever had was what he made for her, and he asked her what it was about, and she shrugged.

"Can't remember," she muttered, lying, brushing a strand of chocolate coloured hair from her eyes and looking down into her drink. "I just know it was bad."

"You're lying to me," he said gruffly, and she looked up sharply into his blue eyes just like hers, and after a pause she shook her head. She wasn't afraid to defy her father... he couldn't read her mind.

"No, it's just like the others... it's really bad when I'm there, but it doesn't matter, I'm awake now."

"Nothing will hurt you," he soothed, reaching across the kitchen table and taking her hand in his, smiling at her. "Not while I'm here."

She smiled back at him, squeezing his hand in return before she sipped her hot chocolate, and he chattered on about work, trying to take her mind off things. It didn't help much, but it was nice to listen to something that wasn't Pitch... nice for something kind and happy.

When she finished her drink, they pair of them stood to go back to their rooms, and she paused at her door along the hall, feeling awkward and tense, but she turned around anyway, called her dad back,

"Papa!" she shouted, and he stopped at his door, looking back at her with attentive eyes, "Do you... do you think you could ask Sandy to stop by, really quickly, to make sure I don't have bad dreams again?"

She'd never asked for him before, though her dad had often suggested it. She couldn't do it any more, she couldn't be Pitch's slave another night. Her father was beaming at her now, nodding enthusiastically.

"Of course, I call him now. You go rest, goodnight."

"Night papa," she whispered, going into her room and sighing, laying down on her bed and letting exhaustion tug at her eyes.

And with that, Sarah St. North closed her eyes, and within moments had the most blissful nights sleep she'd ever had in her nineteen years...


	2. Chapter 2

Dedicated to aquodox who leaves the lovliest reviews, and HerHiddenSecret who spurs me on with her youth :)

I've decided to make this a small story. Please review :)

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Awaking the next morning was a strange experience for Sarah, because when she opened her eyes, she saw a bright white light ahead of her, and all of a sudden the fears that had not clutched her in her sleep, the terrors that had not made her quiver and tremble and await the horrors she knew should have come in stead of the peaceful dream she had flooded over her, making her lie stiff and rigid while the trembles slowly started. Her stomach clenched tightly, as if someone were stabbing her, and with a gasp the floodgates opened, and she choked out, rolling sideways, curling up, crying.

There was a loud bang, heavy footsteps on a wooden floor, and someone was scooping her up into their arms, cradling her like she were a babe again, holding her close and hushing her gently. Her father was there, and she knew, but he couldn't be, not in this hell. She tried pushing him away, desperate for him not to see her in this state, not when he would come... but the large man didn't let up, his blue eyes crinkled with worry, and he whispered soothing words to his child, rocking her, holding her, protecting her as best he could... but it was so much deeper than what he could reach. The shadow was too dense for his light to penetrate.

Not only had that bastard stolen her dreams from her, plagued her mind with nightmares since she was a young child and attacked her more viciously since she turned seventeen. In her youth she'd fled her room, leaping over the dense shadow accumulating beneath her bed and running as fast as her small legs could have carried her to her father's room, jumping upon the bed and busying herself in his arms, crying out about the bad dreams, and he would hush her, tell her that was all it was, she had nothing to fear.

How wrong he had been. North's words had only infuriated him. Only made his attacks more personal... she didn't have those silly dreams about spiders, but instead there would be the thin, ghostly figure of a woman she had never met, but loved with all her heart. Her mother, looking down at her with blank white eyes, trembling as she screamed it was the girls' fault she had died. She was worthless, she was a murderer... the ghost cried about how she wished Sarah had never been born, then she would not have had to die, and her father would be so much happier. She had overcome those dreams, at first she believed them, cried and wept and hid herself from her father who she was sure hated her too. But then he had found out, he had held her and they both cried together as he told her no. He loved her, she wasn't to be blamed... and then those dreams stopped.

But now he was doing it again. Attacking her differently, preying upon her weakened mind and naïve innocence and he was winning... she couldn't stop him... and now she couldn't even face her waking moments without trembling in fear.

"Hush now," her father said gently, stroking her brown hair out of her tear streaked face and rubbing his thumb across her cheek, ridding it of the damp from her sobs, his gold ring cold and making her flinch away... she hated the cold. Couldn't stand it.

Cold and Dark went so well together...

"He's still here," she choked, looking about herself, realising the white light she'd seen was just the sun shining in through her windows, but in every corner there seemed to be a shadow that was waiting to open yellow eyes to her. In her mind there was a chuckle, deep, lulling, soothing, but hateful. He was such a hateful being.

"Who?" her father asked, his body tensing up, he knew the answer already... who else could strike such fear in his child?

"Him."

She couldn't bring herself to say his name. Couldn't keep looking around for him, eyes wide and scared, and her father wasted no time then in picking her up, carrying her from the room and she closed her eyes and huddled into her dads' warmth as he carried her through, placed her down on the armchair in the sitting room, lit the fire and stoked it until it roared, chased the shadows back and warmth rushed through her. She stared into those flames, watching as the light danced and the colours merged and dodged one another again and again... over and over. Her dad left to the kitchen to make her some breakfast and some more hot chocolate, and she felt alone and very vulnerable...

"You're weak," came a voice from behind her, and she turned and saw those golder eyes, and she shrieked out, jumping from the chair and standing beside the open flame as he grinned at her coyly. "You don't even know the difference between reality and what's just happening in your mind... my poor darling..."

With a blink he was gone, and she trembled as she stood there, wondering if she had just imagined it, if he had been there or not...

Had that monster occupied her mind so often she could recall his voice? She could conjure up his imagine in the blink of an eye and make him look so vivid in her mind that it was as if he were there with her, but an arms' length away and so apparently solid that she could almost touch him?

"Get out of my head!" she cried, looking about wildly and she saw him beside her this time, leaning against the fireplace, relaxed and comfortable in her panic. Always the calm demeanour, always the charming personality, always the smug smiled and the bright eyes when she felt dead inside. Used and worthless and dead.

"Who says I'm in your head?" he asked, voice drawl and his eyes narrowing in that way that told her he was losing his temper. He had an awfully short temper.

"You- you're always in my head. You're not strong anywhere else," she gasped, and she felt his hand close around her throat, felt the floor slam against her back as he shoved her over and his weight upon her. Instantly the room was dark, the shadows screaming but they were splitting her mind, they were in her head... he was not. The only light was from the fire which had turned the most unearthly blue and was cold on her skin, the warmth draining from her along with all the colour in her skin, leaving her the palest white.

"I am stronger, than you will ever be," he hissed, his hand flying back and before she could registered what happened her cheek stung, she'd gasped out, and then he was gone, she could breath again, the room was warm and the fire was bright, but she remained deathly white, her eyes fixed on the flames, and her body limp and shivering. He was right, she was weak. He was strong... she couldn't defy him and she... she...

She would always, always, be a slave to him. To the darkness.

And with that, she closed her eyes slowly, the last traces of light in those baby blues dying out as she succumbed... she gave up.

That was how North found her, laying on her back on the stone floor, cold as ice and her body still, chest rising and falling slowly and her eyelids fluttering gently. He wasted no time in dropping the breakfast onto a table, rushing forward and picking her up, panic rising in his chest which happened so rarely for the older man that it scared him slightly... but he couldn't let that happen, and instead he took her back to her room, lay her in bed and covered her up, warmed her, held her hand...

Wondered when she'd open her eyes again... he'd not seen those blue eyes sparkle in so long, had known she had nightmares but hadn't done anything about it, left her to cope because Pitch would only prey on children and give them a few bumps in the night. His Sarah was stronger that the boogeyman ever could be. He was sure of it... Or at least, he had been. That sparkle had been fading. Her love for magic had dissipated, the wonder she'd exhumed became less and less until she saw no joy in it. She never laughed, her concentration lapsed, and he could even feel how thin she had become, how fragile she was...

But he'd always thought, somehow, she would pull herself out of it. Everyone reached a time in their life when it seemed hopeless... but everyone pushed through, everyone persevered... of course, not everybody had the devil on their backs, but he couldn't see into her mind. There was so little she'd tell him.

Looking around the room, he felt something... something odd, something wrong. The light seemed too bright through the windows and the shadows too dense, and he knew then that Pitch was here, that cruel, conniving being was gaining something from his daughters' loss... revenge on him.

How best to take down a Guardian than destroy those they love? Make the building crumble from within... and of course, if he lost his Sarah, his child and all he had left of his late wife, it would destroy him.

"I need you to be strong, child," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion as he reached forward and cupped her cold face, stroking that long brown hair back. "I need you, more than you ever know."


	3. Chapter 3

This is slowly turning into something of a project for me xD I'm enjoying writing something darker than usual, but anyways, you're not here to read the A/N, are you?

I'd love it if you could check out my other RotG fic, 'The End of Summer' which if you click my name in the doobly-do at the top of the story and then scroll down my page and then click it, you'll be there xD

Please review, and for my first disclaimer in years - I do not own Rise of the Guardians, though Lord only knows I want to. Cheers!

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"Your poor father needs you to be strong," Pitch chuckled, as she sat in a corner of this new room, legs tucked up to her chest and arms wrapped firmly around her, and her eyes were fixed on her toes. "I take it you're very secretive about your mind, darling."

"Stop calling me that," she whispered, and she felt his hand across her face again, the sting in her cheek redoubling, and she hissed in pain, eyes narrowing.

"What? Stop calling you 'darling'... but you are my darling, remember?" he hissed through his teeth, and she looked up at him, so much contempt filling her that her mind and body couldn't physically hold any fear. She was staring through narrowed eyes, bright blue slits boring into his golden eyes and for a second his smirk faltered, and he stepped back a little, but then his shadows came forward, emboldened by a challenge, and she felt her resilience break, and she dropped her head again.

"You _gave_ yourself to me at seventeen, you became mine."

"You _gave_ me no choice," she snapped, and then she felt his fingers twisting in her hair, painfully pulling it so her head was jerked upwards and back, slamming into the hard wall which sent stars popping in her eyes.

"You liar! Knowing I gave you nightmares, knowing of your fathers' hatred of me and all his precious Guardians' too, knowing I had tortured your poor little mind for oh, so long, you still welcomed me in... with open arms..."

With his spare hand he reached up and traced her jawline, ignoring her sneer, and then running his hand down to her throat, applying only a little pressure there, but enough to make her eyes widen in shock and fright, make her unsure of his intentions and send a spark of fear coursing through her body...oh, how he loved that feeling.

"When your father was too busy looking after poor Jack Frost, when you were left forgotten about, and all alone when you were the one who needed help... Jack may have been lonely, but you were the one who was alone. You have been all along. And you pleaded with me not to leave you."

"Liar!" she screamed, spitting in his face suddenly, seething as she scrabbled suddenly, knocking his hands clear of her body and shoving him. He stumbled slightly but he regained his composure, sneered, and snapped his fingers...

His shadows, those... creatures... they leapt upon her, attacked, wormed their way into her mind and left her sobbing, begging for it to stop. But he calmly wiped away her spit from his eyes, dried it with the corner of his cloak before he even regarded her, listened to her pleas. He looked so relaxed, his figure lounging against the wall as the beasts ripped at her clothing, her skin, screamed at her, then slowly he waved his hand, and they were gone, and she was left shivering.

"You were so desperate for some attention, that you asked me - a being as broken as you were - to stay with you. You thought that you would offer kindness and it would be returned, and you would fix me, and I would offer you companionship... not quite what you expected, is it?"

She lay there, sobbing on the floor, the harsh truth of his words sinking in and though she wanted so badly to reject those claims, they were true... there was nothing she could do now, she'd fallen this far in.

When her father and the other Guardians had taken Jack Frost into their ranks, defeated Pitch, she found her father distanced himself slightly from her. He now had the son he'd always wanted, and though she knew he loved her, his new found admiration for the Guardian of Joy meant he spent more time advising Jack on what to do as a Guardian, on how best to approach his duties, took a likeness to the boys undeniable charm and lust for life, so like his own... She'd been left in the dust, making dinner then eating alone, seeking him out only to find he'd gone doing something with Jack. She began to resent the boy, taking her father from her... she began to resent all things cold, no matter how warm his personality might have been. Her nightmares had lessened though at this time, with Pitch's downfall, and a small part of her mind told her that when he came again to plague her, his body weak, but his mind full of vengeance, when he'd terrorised her that first time, forced her into submission and taken everything she held dear to her... if she'd only then demanded to see her father, or perhaps gone to one of the other Guardians and told them, then it would have ended two years ago.

But she'd thought it stupid... as her father said, they were only bad dreams. She was lonely, and that night he appeared in her room, broken and bruised and injured, she'd not screamed and raised the alarm, but she had seen a man who had fallen and hit rock bottom, and she felt her heart squeeze. Despite what he'd done in her dreams, and she'd gone to him, tended his wounds and been compassionate. Yes, he had raped her in his dreams, but somehow at the back of her mind she reasoned it with him trying to gain strength from fear. He was trying to heal himself.

She told him she'd help him, but he's twisted the meaning of that, taken advantage of her kindness and pushed her to the bed, covering her mouth with her hand and taken her in consciousness. He'd fed from the fear within her heart and mind, and left the room standing taller than he had even half an hour before. She lay there, feeling ashamed and stupid... she'd let him do that... she'd allowed him in, knowing what he was and what he was capable of, and it was her fault. So slowly she'd gone and washed herself, and dressed, and continued with her life.

It was all her fault... everything was her fault.

"Oh, darling, not everything is your fault!" Pitch exclaimed, lifting her body from the ground and carrying her through the halls and chambers. "No, I admit I took advantage of your poor, defenceless self... it was so terrible of me," he said with mock sincerity. His voice sounded so smooth, soothing to her, but she still trembled... holding onto him, scared of him, but he was the only thing she was sure of. She had no certainty in this place.

"Stop getting in my head," she whispered, her eyes opening slightly and the blue eyes scanning the strange surroundings... there were hundreds of cages hanging from the roof, a chasm below, but she swore she could see a bottom... or maybe it was the dark playing tricks on her eyes. She saw a rough, iron globe with billions of small lights twinkling at her, all the children who believed in her father and his friends.

"You make it so easy though," he said gently, sitting her in a high backed black chair, soft, and she eased into it, wincing at her cuts. Slowly he went about some business, taking warm water in a bowl and a cloth, coming to her and kneeling before her, before slowly peeling her clothing from her body, showing those new scars.

She'd learned a long time ago that her frail body in her dreams, the scars she was left with, they were all marks, blemishes on her mind. On her subconscious. Though she might look physically fine when awake, her mind had been tortured and maimed so terribly, it was almost painful to think about. But here Pitch was, being so delicate now, tending her wounds this time like she'd tended his, his touch gently, his brow furrowed in concentration. Both were silent as he cleaned her up, washing away the dirt and the blood, never touching anywhere intimate, never pressing too hard to hurt her. She watched curiously as she tried to suss him out.

"Your father wants you to be strong," he said quietly, his eyes half lidded and lazy as he put the bowl away and brought her a towel, it's bright white contrasting to everything around her. "I could make you strong."

She watched him now, her brow furrowed this time as she tried to make sense of what he was saying... he... could make her strong?

"I know I've been the one to weaken you," he said, pulling her up from the chair and wrapping the towel around her, his fingers gliding gently over her arms before he took her hands and clasped them together, raising them up to his lips, kissing her fingers gently. "But I can make you strong again. Look at your body, look at the scars."

And though she wanted so much to turn and run from the man, from this chamber and from this entire place, she felt some morbid curiosity telling her to look down at those scars. And her blue eyes flickered slightly from his golden eyes, and she did then look down... and there was a stark difference. There were still a few long scars wrapping around her arms, her legs, her abdomen... but the tiny scars were gone, he skin and it hadn't looked so clean in her dreams since she was a very little girl. Her body was still weak, but... but she could not recall why the scars were there in the first place. She remembered the terrible dreams. Her ghostly mother resenting her, Pitch himself torturing her, his shadows screaming... but all the little ones... they were gone.

"Only bad dreams," Pitch said gently. "Nothing to be afraid of."

Her head jerked a little, and she looked up at him slowly, eyes narrowed in consideration.

"Except you?" she asked.

"Not even me... not if you don't want to," he told her, and she saw a flicker in his golden eyes... hunger. He was hungry for power, and she realised then he could gain it through her... "Imagine it Sarah, you will never be alone again, never afraid of shadows or the dark. Never left to cry yourself to sleep, or resent your family for abandoning you. You can be strong again."

"You made me weak," she whispered, taking a small step back from him, shaking his arms off her. "You did this to me, why should I trust you?"

"I may have done it!" he said sharply, and her bright eyes bore into his, and he paused, took a breath, re-tracked. "I... may have done it... but your father knew you were having nightmares, knew you weren't yourself, knew you were growing weaker and still he left you to cope on your own while he fawned over a child not even his. He abandoned you, Sarah."

"Pitch, I... I can't... not with you... my father would hate me."

"And you think he loves you now?" Pitch asked, his eyes narrowing. "He wants you to be strong so you'll recover, so then he'll not feel guilty and let that get the best of him, and he can carry on with Christmas. Again, using you to strengthen his own place in the world and favouring all of them-" he gestured to the globe and the millions of lights. "-above you."

"I..." she looked at the globe, and each light she saw felt like a dagger through her. Was he just using her? "I don't... know."

"You'll never have to be afraid again," Pitch said soothingly, and there was something sincere in his voice, something she'd never heard before when he's spoken to her. He reached for her and took her hand, pulling her close to him, kissing her atop her head. "You won't need North to look after you, because you'll have me... and together, we'll have everything."

Her eyes closed, and in a second she opened them again, and she looked about the room, seeing her father asleep in the chair beside her bed, and she realised she'd woken up. What had started as a nightmare turned... very strange. Not a dream, but perhaps through her mind was how Pitch was to communicate with her from now... Sitting up she rubbed her neck, feeling the tenderness had gone, and she jumped up to look in the mirror and there was no mark. Then she heard her father stirring behind her, and she looked as his eyes opened and those shining blue orbs searched the bed for her, but she wasn't there, and she saw the panic sink into him and she rushed over, touched his arm, hugged him, and he hugged her tightly, kissing her atop the head and stroking her hair as if she were a child he'd lost in a shop and found again, like he had to make sure she was really there.

"Are you okay?" he asked, leaning away from her and looking down, concern and love filled his eyes. Sarah nodded slightly, her head cocked to the side a little while she considered him.

"I'm fine dad," she said, a small smile playing on her lips. "I've figured it out. I'm not going to be scared of Pitch ever again."


	4. Chapter 4

I've literally just finished writing this chapter, so it's a bit shoddy xD

Sorry about that, but we're starting to see how Sarah is moving on, getting on, and getting stronger. Enjoy, and please review.

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Her mind had been oddly vacant the last few nights, and though she didn't have nightmares, Sarah St. North didn't have any dreams either. It was stranger still that Sandy had been in the Pole for a few nights, but she hadn't had anything to dream on. No pleasantries, no happy thoughts... just deep REM sleep that left her refreshed in the morning, but for some bizarre and unknown reason, it just wasn't satisfying.

She'd told her father she wouldn't be afraid of Pitch any more, and there needn't be, whatever she decided on. Part of her longed for the comfort of another person who knew how it felt to be forgotten, who'd been hurt by the same people she had, who offered her some leverage. But then she knew Pitch Black – Gods, his name made her shudder – was a bastard of a being. He'd defiled her body, raped her physically and mentally, and would only use her to achieve his own goal, then he would go back to treating her like a piece of meat. Except if she fell into his clutches, went freely into his clasp and his lair and stay there as his... his Queen of Nightmares, if you will... there would be no way she would ever get out of there.

She knew a little of his history, had been told about his past by Bunny who had seen the terrible occurrence with his own eyes. He had been a general in the moons army against the Fearlings and Nightmares. He had fought on the good side, had destroyed the evil from the world. But upon losing his daughter he had become worried, had let his anguish get the better of him and the Fearlings in the prisons had sensed it, called him to them by mimicking his daughters' voice, and he had gone to them, tricked in a moment of weakness, and those Fearlings had possessed him. Tainted his mind and his soul, and she'd known that for many a year, which is part of why she allowed him to get so close after his demise, when he first took advantage of her.

She didn't want to make that mistake again, but she felt pity for the man, as well as fear. But she would overcome that. She wouldn't be afraid of him again, and there were certain things she had to do to ensure that factor.

Sarah realised in that moment that she had to become closer to her father. By building a wall between her and those she was closest to, she had made herself more vulnerable to darker things seeping in. Naturally they would, as when you hide in the shadows, they already have you. She needed to overcome the feeling of being neglected, when she really wasn't, and to do that, she'd have to get to know the boy her father had taken such a liking to.

Jack Frost.

She left her room, left those four walls that had confined her for years, been the place where Pitch had damaged her so badly, and she walked down the hall to where her father was in his office, letting herself in and narrowly avoiding destroying one of her newer flying creations.

"What have I told you about-! Oh, Sarah! Come in!" he said, beaming and opening his arms to her, beckoning her in. She walked towards him and he pulled her into a gentle one armed hug while they watched the small ice place turn back into a train and land on its tracks. "What is it my dear?" he asked, and she turned her blue eyes to his, biting her lip slightly.

"Dad, I was wondering where Jack Frost would be?"

"Jack?" he repeated the name, sounding fairly shocked. "I didn't think you liked Jack, you always avoid him."

"No, I just haven't had time to get to know him yet, but I'm bored and I thought we could hang out a bit."

Her gave her a scrutinising look with those bright blue eyes of his, exactly like hers, and he cocked his head a little, thinking about what she was asking.

"I don't know..." he said slowly. "You say Pitch gives you nightmares... I don't want him to come and find you."

"He won't dad, not if I'm with Jack," she pleaded, and after a few minutes of arguing back and forth he begrudgingly handed her a snow globe, and told her that Jack would be in Burgess, a town in America. It was only the start of Spring, and though relatively immune to the chills the changing seasons brought, she donned a pair of black pants, a grey sweater, red boots lined with black fur and a red coat akin to the boots. Black fir around the hem and cuffs, and inside the hood and body of the coat. It fastened at the front with a long tie, and she was ready to go out alone in the world. Something she'd actually never done before. She glanced in the mirror briefly and smiled to herself in mild amusement. She had the same dress sense as her father. Her clothing was more fitted, but had the same Russian accents to them, and the same colours almost to a tee. Having grown up with him as her only influence would have a lot to do with that.

She grabbed the globe from his hands and shook it, whispering Burgess to it so when she threw it she would be taken to the town. Her father looked on worriedly, and she turned to kiss him upon the cheek and hug him before she left.

"I'll be okay dad," she said softly, and he stroked her hair a little.

"I know, but I'm allowed to be worried... you're the most important thing in my life, I don't want to lose that."

At his words she felt her heart clench, as he'd said exactly what she'd needed to hear for years. Though she would still go and find Jack to see what her father found so endearing about him, she was content enough with that her dad had just said to her, that she was the most important thing in his life, and it made her happier than she thought she could have been so early on in her plan. She wanted to hug him and not let go, try to convince him to leave his office for one night, and maybe they could drink hot chocolate and eat ice cream and watch films like they'd done when she was a little girl. But she left anyway, jumping through the portal and appearing on the main street of Burgess.

Nobody saw her naturally, not because she was the daughter of Santa, so called, but because she walked out like nothing was wrong and blended into the crowd. Her mother had been a normal person. Had retained her belief in all things magic and had one night gone downstairs for a glass of milk when her father had been setting presents out for her nieces and nephews that were staying over. From what her father said, it was the most shocking moment of his life, as a beautiful young woman stood there in shock watching him, and he stood there in shock that this beautiful young woman could see him. They'd spoken briefly, and in those few moment he'd fallen head over heels for her, loving how she was so passionate about magic and saw it in everything, everywhere she went. He'd returned in the Spring to see her, and it blossomed quickly. They'd never married, never seen the need to, because they loved one another so much anyway, what was a ring going to do? She'd left her family in England on the pretence that she was travelling the world, but really went to live with him at the Pole.

They'd spent years trying for a child to make the perfect family. But in Sarah's mind, she'd come along and ruined everything... her mother had died in childbirth because of her, and though she knew she hadn't forced them to conceive, she thought that if it had been any other child but her, her mother would have made it.

She hadn't been thinking about where she was going, and soon she was walking along the quiet paths of a park, looking out to the pond where children were creeping out slowly on ice skates. She felt a little panic and wandered closer, preparing herself to run in if anything went wrong. She'd been in icy waters before. It was actually a secret love of hers, plunging into the lakes around the Pole and swimming about. Her father hated her doing it, but she'd never stop. These children though, they weren't even testing the ice slowly... they'd all gone on at once and she could hear it creaking beneath them, and she felt fearful for them. As much as she tried to push the feeling out, she couldn't. She couldn't allow Pitch to know she was afraid, or he'd come seeking her.

"Hey!" she shouted, walking towards the group briskly. "That ice won't hold you, come off it now," she called, and the group turned to her. They couldn't have been older than thirteen, and she expected arrogance and rudeness, but each child listened, complied and hurried off the ice, but in her direction. It was when she felt a hand on her shoulder did she whip around to stare into eyes an icier blue than hers.

"What are you doing out of the Pole?" Jack asked, grinning down at her, standing half a foot taller. She felt herself bristle, and he must have noticed her tense up as his hand retracted. It wasn't a secret between them that she wasn't fond of him.

"Came to see you," Sarah replied stiffly, and the children gathered around them.

One gangly boy with brown hair and brown eyes stood particularly close to Jack, looking between them rapidly, looking shocked.

"She can see you?" he asked the white haired boy, and he nodded, grinning a little. "Jack, how can she see you?"

"_She_ has a name," Sarah muttered darkly. "It's Sarah."

Jack only laughed at her, nodding before he rested his weight upon his staff, nodding to the kids around him. Obviously believers of his, and she smiled a little as she saw how happy the teen was, and how the children were so enthusiastic to see him, yet so curious about her. Jack though, was more than happy to explain to them the supposed anomaly where a nineteen year old girl could see someone who would have otherwise been invisible to her.

"You see guys, Sarah here is actually a very important person in the world of Guardians," he started, but the brown haired boy cut over him, staring at Sarah in awe.

"Is sh- Sarah a Guardian too?!"

"Ah, no..." Jack muttered, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly while Sarah rolled her eyes. "No... but she is Nicholas St. North's daughter!"

There were blank stares all around, the children puzzled at the mention of her fathers' full name. She found it a little irritating actually, that they believed strongly in her father et they didn't know his name... it just seemed strange.

"Santa Clause is my dad," she said quietly, clarifying the matter, and it sent off a larger reaction than she thought it would. Instantly she became very popular, all the children asking her questions in torrents, and she felt a little uneasy with all the attention she was receiving, as she usually got none. Part of her wanted to crawl into a dark hole... then she remembered how she'd been tortured all these years and she changed her mind. That thought lingered though, and for some reason those painful memories were becoming harder to remember... something was messing with her mind and she had an idea what it was. He was trying to sway her over to his side, but she wouldn't have it.

"Kids, I just really need to talk to Jack... it's important business," she informed them, and though they seemed shocked, and somewhat reluctant to leave their Guardian friend and the girl they knew now to be Santa's daughter, they left, looking very impressed.

There was a pause, a silence hanging in the air, and Jack was the one to break it.

"So... important business?" he asked, shooting her a look that told her he didn't believe a word of it, and she sighed. He wouldn't believe that she just wanted to get to know him after two years of pointedly doing the opposite. She didn't want to tell him all about her situation, because she felt embarrassed and ashamed, and absolutely filthy. She felt like she didn't deserve this to be sorted out, because she'd got herself into this terrible, terrible mess... but she couldn't keep on with the nightmares, and she especially couldn't give into the man and his dark ways, couldn't submit to him and become like him.

"Jack... there's a lot I need to get off my chest."


	5. Chapter 5

This chapter has to be dedicated to aquodox, because I actually couldn't have STARTED this chapter without their help. Thank you :)

Please review.

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They'd walked silently through the park, heading deeper into the trees and plodding through snow drifts. Jack eventually skipped off ahead and climbed a large oak tree, seating himself on the lowest branch while waiting for Sarah to catch up to him. She huffed and blew a strand of her dark brown hair out of her bright eyes, scraping it back with her fingers which were quickly going numb. When she reached the tree she grasped Jacks hand and he hoisted her up, surprising her with his strength, and he made sure she was seated comfortably before he straddled the branch and faced her, his own icy eyes inquisitive.

"So... important business?" he asked again, leaning forward on his arms, steadying himself, and he looked at her curiously as she gathered herself.

"I... my dad really likes you," she started, though she felt a little peeved when he nodded quickly, accepting that fact too readily. Big headed, arrogant git. "I want to know why."

Jack's jaw dropped open then, and he looked at her aghast, shocked, and a little bit angry. She stared back at him, her demeanour cool and calculated, her stare as icy as his. If there was one thing she'd learned these last few years it was how to don a mask in real life. She could hide how she really felt around the people who mattered, but when it was... him... she couldn't do anything. She crumbled.

"You... are you really asking why your dad likes me?" he asked a small smirk appearing on his face and she sighed inwardly, knowing he was about to become defensive. She just didn't think he'd attack her personally, which is what he did as a first resort. "Maybe because I'm sociable and nice, I don't hole myself up and wallow in self pity."

It was Sarah's turn to look horrified, and she did, her lips parting slightly in a silent gasp, her eyes widening and tearing up, as he continued about how she was a recluse, how she didn't appreciate what her father did at the Pole or as a Guardian, and it was painfully obvious that she was a jealous person. Biting the inside of her cheek she let him finish, before she swung her leg back over the branch and toppled down into a snow drift, landing on her knees before stumbling up and making to walk away, Jack was quick though, was in front of her and had his hands on her shoulders, smirking.

"Why do you ask?" he asked her in a sickly sweet voice, and she lashed out, slapping him across the face.

"You're an ass! I asked why my dad liked you, I never even said anything hurtful to you, I just wanted to know what sort of relationship he had with you! You've just called me horrible names and criticised me, and I never said anything!" she screamed, and his eyes grew wider, before narrowing again.

"Oh, come off it," he spat, the red mark where her hand had connected with his cheek burning brightly against his skin, contrasting so vividly that for a second she regretted it, but only for a second, "it's no secret you hate me, you've avoided me for two years when I visit the Pole, ignored me what I tried to start conversations, you're just full of yourself and jealous that your dad talks to other people."

The brunette girl held her breath, turning her face away from him as his words sank in. Yes, she was jealous of him, but not because her father talked to him, talking was fine! It was the fact that her father wanted to do everything with Jack, asked him about new toys, took him out in the sleigh... things he'd done with her before he came along. Yes, it was petty, but she'd come here with the intention of seeing his positive aspects, and he'd done nothing but promote a negative image.

"Just leave it," she whispered, unable to keep the hurt from her voice, and his death grip on her shoulders' slackened somewhat, and when she did manage to look back at him his expression had softened and he looked a bit shame faced.

"Bad day?" he asked quietly, and she scoffed.

"Bad two years," she muttered, shaking his hands off. "Since you took... took Pitch down, I've had nightmares." She struggled to say his name, and she physically shuddered, wincing away as she thought of him, of his dark persona, of his long thin fingers and his cruel smile... Jack noticed this, looked concerned a little, but he said nothing, part of him wondering if it wasn't just the nippy air that had her shivering. Her arms raised and wrapped around her torso protectively...

"Wanna talk about it?" he asked her, shuffling awkwardly. She looked at him, gave him a sweeping look up and down, took in his stance and how he shuffled and how he couldn't maintain eye contact with her, and she sighed a little. He wouldn't be any good with this situation, she knew it, and she couldn't do anything but ask a few more simple questions, perhaps try to explain a little of her motivation for finding him to the spirit, but she felt too ashamed to go into depths.

"No, they're... they're only bad dreams," she whispered, and he looked at her properly now, his eyes soft and thoughtful, and he took a small step towards her.

"Look... I'm sorry we got off on the wrong foot, I really sort of am," he started, and she found herself smiling at him, shooting him a glance.

"Sort of," she repeated, and he grinned.

"Sort of," he chuckled, nodding. "If there's something wrong, I mean, I guess I am a Guardian, I do kind of have to help. And it's not just that!" he added quickly, as Sarah opened her mouth to retort, and he stopped her knowing she would. "I want to help. You're my friends' daughter, I really do want to help."

She could hear the honesty in his voice, see the sincerity shine in his eyes, and she nodded a little.

"I didn't mean to offend you, asking why dad liked you and all," she said quietly, and the silver haired boy rubbed the back of his neck slightly.

"I was out of line, saying all that too..."

Neither actually said sorry, but it wasn't necessary, they didn't have to because both knew the other was sorry for what they had said, how they'd said it and how they'd made the other feel. Sarah slowly backed up against the tree and slid down to sit in the snow, and Jack sat cross legged opposite her, fixing her with his eyes, paying rapt attention.

They spoke of what Jack and North did, and Sarah found she was quite unjustified in being jealous of Jack. Not only did he not have anything close to a family of his own, he was new to being a Guardian so hadn't built up the relationships with the others like they had managed to over the years they'd worked together safeguarding the children of the Earth. She found out her father had been showing Jack the world, showing him the countries and cities where children needed that bit of extra help, extra joy in their lives, how it was hard for many, how poverty and famine and war meant they struggled to live from day to day. She learned that he'd taken to North quite quickly because he was the first one who really seemed to believe he could become a Guardian, and she understood that. Her father has this undying belief in everything. If it could be possible, he'll make it so, not matter how outrageous it could be, or how grand.

Then the conversation trickled off, and the young North took to looking out over the treetops in the distance, eyes fixed and staring into space, looking at the canopy and the white clouds above, but not actually seeing them... vaguely she watched two robins dart upwards into the air, circling one another and darting back and forth around each other. It brought the smallest smile to her lips, and Jack turned his head to look where she was, watching the birds – bright against the dull sky – dart about and dance and sing in their trilling voices. It all seemed too perfect... too happy and bright.

"Were you afraid of Pitch?" she asked in a whisper, still staring at the darting robins.

"A little... why?" he asked, turning his gaze slowly from the birds to her face, and he noticed how oddly vacant her eyes were, how her face looked pale, how her knees had drawn themselves up to her chest and her arms were wrapped tightly about them... she was holding herself, keeping herself closed to him, keeping quiet now, and the Guardians got the feeling there was something about her that she was keeping from him.

"How did you get over it?" she whispered again, almost as if she were afraid someone would hear. "Your fear."

"I... I just knew it was nothing but bad thoughts... I wasn't afraid of him."

She only nodded mutely, still vacant, still staring, and he began feeling uneasy, reaching forward and brushing his hand over her knee, and her reaction startled him beyond all belief. Her whole body rocketed up like a bullet, she screamed out and backed against the tree, trembling, tears welling up in her eyes again.

"Sarah!" Jack cried, jumping up, but he approached slowly, hand outstretched. She was shaking like a leaf, he was scared that touching her would make her crumble... she seemed so scared, it had him worried.

"It's nothing Jack, it's nothing," she said breathlessly, closing her eyes and breathing deeply. "It's nothing, please..."

She took a snow globe from her pocket, threw it and practically dived through the portal, leaving him alone, wondering what had happened to the girl to make her so jumpy. He stood in the silence for what seemed like hours, before he shook himself, looking back over the canopy of the trees. She'd said please when saying it was nothing... that seemed... strange. Like she was begging him to leave it, but why would she? She could have told him in far more crude words where to stick his robins had gone now, and he pondered her words...

"_How did you get over it?... your fear._"

Something was happening with her... it wasn't nothing like she'd tried to convince him it was. Her hasty departure was indication enough that she was trying to escape from something, and the boy felt that perhaps he'd judged her too harshly. Neither had been right about the other. Sighing, he looked to the spot the portal had been, and he ran his fingers through his hair, shaking his head as he tried to take it in.

"It's something. It's definitely something."


	6. Chapter 6

Alright my pretties, here is chapter 6!

I've realised I'm posting rather slowly on this one, it's because I'm wondering how I can make it good without making it as long as my other stories. I'm working a lot on 'The End of Summer', my other RotG fanfic, which I hope you check out if you want to ^_^ so here is your new chapter, and I hareby promising to update once a week at the bare minimum.

So anyways, please review, they're always lovely to read, and I hope you have a lovely day :)

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She stormed through the portal, knocking into a Yeti and sending an elf sprawling as she kicked him, though accidental as it was she didn't apologise, and both cried out after her, but she ignored them. As she walked past another Yeti who had watched with an astonished expression on his face, she shoved the snow globe in his hand and carried on past him, heading to her room. She slammed the door behind her, and let out a frustrated scream before hitting her head into the heavy oak, sighing, letting some tears spill from her eyes. She should have known he'd be no use.

'I just knew it was nothing but bad thoughts... I wasn't afraid of him.'

But it wasn't just bad thoughts... she shivered and clutched at herself, thinking of him made her feel ill, and she suddenly felt very cold, very alone...

Hitting her fist against the door, she pushed herself back lightly and turned around slowly, eyes closed, concentrating.

He'd said there would be nothing to fear, but she still felt it whenever she thought of him, and when she opened her eyes, it really clutched at her. Her room seemed dimmer, darker, more sinister. The corners blurred into shadows and things seemed to whisper to her, call her into the middle of the room, beckon her forward. For a second she went to, she slid one foot forward against the wooden flooring but then stopped herself, getting a hold of her mind again, telling herself she shouldn't, it was wrong, the best thing she could possibly do now would be to turn around and run. Leave the room and go as fast as she could. Although it suddenly seemed difficult, she resolved then and there to tell her father. She'd put up with the torment for so long, she couldn't do it any more!

As a daughter, she couldn't possibly leave her father to join his enemy, the man who had tried to destroy him years ago, before turning her life into a living hell... but as a scared girl, as someone who had been beaten down, she knew if he asked again, she wouldn't refuse... she couldn't, or he'd hurt her. He'd make her fear a thousand times worse... as much as she hated to admit it, Pitch Black had a firm hold of her. Even if her father went in all guns blazing and beat him an inch within his life, he could not possibly kill the Nightmare King. The world needed fear, although Pitch had twisted it. When she was a child, and he had not tormented her so terribly, fear had been the butterflies before she pushed her sleigh down the hill. They'd been the warning lights in her head that made her not put her hand in the fire. It's been the calm voice in the back of her head that told her not to climb up on the rail, lest she tumble over.

She shifted back, reaching blindly behind her for the door handle, but she couldn't feel it, and the panic grew, the bile rose in her throat, and the world span around. Roaring started, and her hands flew instinctively to her ears, to block it out, and she closed her eyes tightly. It continued though, grew louder, it was in her mind, and she cried out as she realised he was there already. He knew she had gone for help, and she'd made him angry. Choking slightly, she felt her body spasm and hands closed around her wrists, and her fright forced her eyes open wide, staring into those gold orbs that plagued her dreams.

"Stop," he said quietly, firmly, and the roaring lessened, those monsters in her mind that terrified her died down, and he looked at her curiously, before he stood and picked her up, strong against her wriggling, holding her firmly, though her fists flew out and she clawed at his back, kicking out and lashing violently.

"Let me go!" she screamed, looking about as her room melted away and she was back in the chamber he'd had her in before. The cages hung from the roof, bridges criss crossed above and the chasm below seemed to echo with moans and cries. It seemed deadlier than before, and she noticed for the first time how the world here was at a slant. Her vision was distorted, but it wasn't her mind, it was the feel of the room. It was meant to alter her view on the place. It was another mind trick, and she bit her lip harshly as a hand flew to his hair, grabbing hold of the thick black locks and with all the strength she had she pulled hard.

He had not said a word to her hitting him, but he cried out now, jerked backwards and lost his hold on her. Something in her mind battled back the voices, what had been roars that Pitch reduced to whispers were beaten out entirely and she – for the first time ever – was resisting the monster Pitch was. Her grip on his hair stuck, and as she fell to the floor she drug him down with her, and quick as she could she grabbed him, swung her leg over his chest and she had her hands locked firmly around his throat.

"Leave me alone, you bastard!" she screeched, her grip tightening, and she saw his eyes open in panic then, and his hands clawed at hers, trying to loosen her grip, trying to push her off so he could breath. Her left hand tightened around his jugular, stopping all air flow, while she lifted her right hand and formed a fist. She kept her blue gaze focused on his golden one. She saw the fear burning in there, felt her heart swell and she smirked in self satisfaction, laughed at the irony. The Nightmare King, the man who struck fear into the hearts of people world over, was the one who was scared now. Being forced out of his comfort zone by a girl he had kept locked away in terror all those years. Her fist flew down in seconds and connected with his cheek at such force his head knocked back, hit the floor, and with a strangled cry his eyes flickered closed. She'd knocked him out in her fury, in that moment of resilience. She let go of him, watching as his chest heaved up, how he took a shaking breath, how in his unconscious form he drank in the air she had been starving him off, and he lay there, limp and lifeless.

Slowly, Sarah stood up, shaking, and looked about the room. Golden eyes glowed at her from all corners, and she glared back at them.

"Leave," she hissed. "Fuck off, or I kill him."

She'd never before used such vulgar language, but never before had she felt such fury within her. He had no right to destroy her mind like he had done for so long. Had no right to invade her home with shadows and darkness and send fearlings in the night to strike dread into her heart and mind. She paced the floor angrily, looking about for an exit, but saw none. Then she looked back at the unconscious man, and sighed, her narrowed eyes softening, and opening a little wider, her tense figure relaxing ever so slightly as she looked down at him. Biting her lip she leaned heavily against the wall, and slipped down it, staring at him.

What would she do? When he awoke he would only be more angry, so she needed to escape. The crux of her plan was finding an escape rout, though there was no conceivable way she would in this labyrinth, so therein lay the flaw of her plan.

"Christ," she muttered, burying her head in her hands, clutching at her tangled brown hair and shaking her head slightly, before she heaved herself up and stood over the limp figure of her tormentor... "what do I do with you?" she asked him, though she hardly expected a response. Indeed, none came, and she stared down at him as his lips were parted slightly, breathing deeply, and around his neck and on his cheek bruises were already blossoming.

She bent down and lifted his arm up, around her shoulders, and she hauled his body up. Struggling a little under his weight, but she managed to lift him, supporting his torso while his legs dragged along the ground. She didn't know where she was going, but she remembered the bed chamber she'd been in before, and went through the back of the chamber, and found herself in a wide open room. There were the basic amenities in there, a small black dining table, couches strewn about, a large fireplace where a fire was roaring, and there were two doors off to the right. She suspected one would be the bedroom, and the other a bathroom... but the couch by the fire was closer, and warmer, and she decided that was where she would leave him. It took her a moment, perspiration forming along her brow as she pulled the man over to the couch. For someone so thin, he was very heavy, and she hated that. Eventually though, she managed it, and dropped him down carefully, lying him down before making her way back to the kitchenette, grabbing two glasses and filling them both with water, before she walked back to the couch and considered her options. She could wait for him to wake up, but she didn't know how long that would be...

Her other option was to shock him awake, by dumping one of the glasses of water over him, which she promptly did, and stepped back as he gasped and spluttered, eyes wide again and he bolted upright, looking about until he saw her stood over him, and his eyes narrowed, but he smirked a little.

"I told you that you wouldn't be afraid any more, didn't I?" he asked, his voice light, but he touched his cheek gingerly and swallowed. "I didn't expect you to overcome those fears with such vigour however."

Sarah found herself smiling in spite of herself, and she offered him the glass of water with a small shrug.

"For your throat," she said quietly, gently, and he accepted it with a small inclination of his head.

"Ah yes, as you tried to strangle me," he noted, sipping at it, his eyes fixed on her face. "You're welcome to sit down, you know," he said, smiling a little, and she was taken aback at how... normal he seemed.

"I would, but the couch is wet," she explained, her face breaking into a grin, though inside she was startled at how at ease she suddenly felt with him, when only ten minutes before she'd been intent on hurting him... had hurt him.

"So it is," Pitch laughed, his voice smooth and calm, "and so am I on that note," he said, setting the glass down on the table and pulling his cloak off, leaving him only in his pants, and she had a clear view of his chest. Her first reaction was to flush. For somebody so slender, he was quite muscled, and they were well defined beneath his skin. Her second reaction was for her mouth to drop in horror at the scars that littered his torso, which he didn't even seem to blink at. She remembered some of them, which she had tended those years ago before he raped her. That seemed like a distant memory now, and she barely thought about it, but the others she hadn't noticed as she'd been so preoccupied with the thoughts of healing those fresh ones.

"You're staring," Pitch said, snapping her eyes from his body to his face, and he was smiling smugly at her, as he dropped his sodden cloak on a hook beside the fire where it would dry.

"I– you have so many scars..." she said quietly, sympathetically, and for a moment he looked down at himself, and his hand touched them gingerly, but he shrugged.

"I've been in my fair share of fights," he explained, and he smiled a little at her, sitting down on the coach again and gesturing to the seat beside him, but she hesitated over it and instead perched herself on the table, opposite him. "As you know. I did a lot before I was the Nightmare King."

She gaped at him, shocked he was referencing his past, and she leant forward, her arms crossing over her lap and she rested her weight on her legs.

"You remember that?" she asked him, "You remember before you were Pitch?"

"Some of it, though it's hardly important is it?" he said, relaxing into his seat and he looked thoroughly uninterested in the subject, as if it were nothing. This startled her, because she knew if she was somebody before she was Sarah St North she would be very interested, and she would certainly want to know every fact she could about it. He probably knew a lot more than he was going to let on though... or perhaps he was telling the truth, perhaps he really only did know small parts of his past. If that was the case, she wouldn't be the one to inform him of everything he was and everything he had. It wouldn't be fair to him.

"I'd argue that," she said slowly, but she shrugged along with him this time, casting her eyes away from him and looking around the room, where golden eyes glittered at her. "Do they always follow you?" she asked whilst nodding to the nightmares that slowly crept from the corners of the rooms, snorting and growling.

"Well, sometimes. But I think they're more attracted to you now, my darling," he explained, using the pet name he'd had for her for years, and thought she flinched slightly at its use she didn't say anything. "You've been afraid for a long time. They expect it."

There was a silence as one of the nightmares, a great black stallion that was so thin she could see its ribcage and every bone and joint, approached her, whinnying and shaking his head.

"I'm not afraid now," she whispered, staring into those glowing eyes as it came close enough for her to reach out and touch.

"I know," Pitch said quietly, lounging against the arm of the couch, propping his chin up on his elbow. "And they know." He watched on with interest as the nightmare sniffed at her, before it snorted again and walked away, uninterested in her because he couldn't smell the fear on her he normally would have. It interested him because not that long ago she'd been terrified, and she'd been screaming and hitting out at him. Now, she was sat calmly, had laughed at and with him, and he felt a twinge in his stomach.

He was the King of fear, he struck it into so many people to gain more power and strength, but since she was small he'd tormented this girl so much. He couldn't help but feel a little guilt grip him, because the terror he'd left her in had been excessive. He knew what she thought about fear, how it could be used to benefit people... and he agreed, so his actions against her those two years ago when she showed pity on him were more than wrong. And how he had plagued her dreams since was evil. He did feel terribly about it, and though he knew she had sought help against him, asked Frost how to overcome him, he felt she had been very kind to him as he had not mentioned exactly what had happened to her.

How she could even look at him puzzled the man. She was strong, though she might not realise it. She was stronger than anyone might have guessed, but that Russian was her father, so it was in her blood.

"You're staring," she said, leaning forward and smirking at him. "hypocritical much?"

"I was just thinking," Pitch drawled, sitting more upright and leaning towards her, eyes shining as she backed off again with a small 'o' on her face. "That we need to talk."


	7. Chapter 7

So I know I've said in my profile that I'll update this fic about once a week, but I've had the writers itch today and I've blasted another chapter for it, so here you all go :D

If you haven't already checked out my other RotG fic 'The End of Summer' then I'd really appreciate it if you did :)

As always, enjoy!

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He was angry that she'd spoken to Jack about him. About trying to stop being afraid of him. It was fairly obvious, the way he had her pinned against the floor, his nose inches from hers, and he had the most serious, severe look on his face.

"I offered you the chance to escape fear," he hissed, staring hard into her shining blue eyes. Slowly he traced a finger along her cheek, wiping away the tear that strayed down, cupping her face and tangling his fingers in her hair. It could have been mistaken for affection, if he hadn't looked so ready to kill her. "I offered you power, strength, a place where you would not be forgotten ever again!"

"You wanted me so you could get close to my dad!" she cried, lashing out, but he was quicker this time, he had the advantage of position, and he dodged her hand before grabbing it, grabbing her other hand and pinning both her hands above her head, holding her wrists down with his left hand while his right closed around her throat, turning the tables. He watched fear and panic and terror strike into her eyes, and she whimpered as his long fingers closed around her airways, applying light pressure but enough to make her jolt up and writhe against him, trying to escape but ultimately increasing the pressure on her neck, making her gag and choke, before he pulled his hand away.

"Oh, how weak you are," he hummed, as she spluttered and gulped down air greedily. "And how easy it is to change the circumstances... barely an hour ago you were the one tormenting me."

She stared up at him with tears in her eyes, and as he stared into those pools of blue he smirked, drinking in her fear, feeling almost light headed. He loved tormenting her, loved tormenting anyone really, but fear like this, it was so overwhelming, it was like his own personal aphrodisiac. He felt somewhat dizzy, but he craved more. As did his nightmares.

They were screaming from the sidelines, desperate to come closer, but he held them back through sheer will, taking as much pleasure from her pain as he physically could. He only allowed them so close because their snorts and howls scared Sarah that bit more.

"Please," she gasped, staring into his eyes, pleading with him. "Please, let me go!"

Pitch let out a short laugh, sneering down at her as she begged, and she stopped, but her eyes bore into his. He tutted a little, shifting himself so he straddled lower down her body, leaning his long torso over her, pressing his lips against her jaw, kissing her gently. He trailed butterfly kisses up along her jaw, her cheek, then pressed his lips against her ear.

"My darling, your begging has never stopped me before... what makes you think now will be different?" he asked, and she shuddered beneath him. Pitch could feel her tremble, and he chuckled lightly, amused at how quickly her strength could come and go, how one minute she was sat above him trying to kill him, or sat opposite laughing about one thing or the other, but now she was lying beneath him, shuddering, her face pale with a delicate green hue to it, and he tutted as she retched. She was making herself physically sick thinking about what he could do to her.

He'd have his fun, obviously. There was nothing more musical than her screams of terror, not a more beautiful sight than a shaking girl, scared witless of him.

"Please," she whispered again, sounding weak. This displeased him, as she didn't sound as afraid, but now more submissive. As if she'd accepted her fate here, accepted what he might do to her, and he groaned, standing abruptly and turning around, watching as she rolled to her side and curled slowly into the foetal position.

"I'll deal with you later, my darling," he muttered, scowling at her, sniffing slightly as he retrieved his cloak from the peg by the fire, still damp but not quite as sodden, and he yawned. "Right now, I'm quite bored of your simpering and whining."

He snapped his fingers once, and the nightmares surrounding them in a circle dove in, and a scream ripped from her throat again as they attacked, fed from her fear, crawled into her mind and left her sobbing in a heap. Smirking, he left them at it, stretching as he admired their work... oh, he'd trained them so well.

After minutes of her sobs and pleads for mercy, for it to stop, for it to end, he shooed them away and scooped her up in his arms, and she clung to him, like she did in her nightmares, and he chuckled. It was one thing taking a woman's mind, but another completely to have the woman herself. He would enjoy himself.

"North!" the silver haired boy cried, wandering through the Pole, looking for the behemoth Russian. He'd come as soon as he could, flying up on the wind to find the man and talk to him about his daughter. It had struck Jack that Sarah had been incredibly secretive about her problems, but the one thing that stuck out was her fear of Pitch, the fact that she'd been so disengaged from the conversation, so unattached to everything that was going on about her, transfixed by nothing, really. For someone who had such a downright jolly father, she seemed awfully depressed, and it didn't sit right with him.

The young Guardian rapped his knuckles against the door to Norths' office and entered when the man shouted for him to come in. Blue eyes met and the older man jumped up, beaming at him and pulling him into a gruff fatherly hug. He could sort of see why Sarah had been so upset with him, he'd never once seen North hug her on the rare occasion he'd been over and the two North's had been in the same room.

"Jack! What brings you to the Pole?" he asked, his voice loud and cheery, and he felt strange feeling so serious when North was acting as if nothing in the world could go wrong in the world. They were at complete opposite ends of the emotional spectrum, and Jack felt determined to bring North closer to his end.

"North, I'm worried about Sarah," he started, and instantly the cheerful demeanour of the old man dissipated, and his bright eyes darkened, as if he already knew what he was about to say. A flicker of worry crossed his expression, and he glanced over the shorter boys shoulder.

"Is she not with you?" he asked quietly, and Jack shook his head.

"Not right now... North, I think somethings wrong with her, she was asking me about Pitch."

North heaved a sigh and sat down on the corner of his desk, reaching one arm up and running a hand through his hair, scratching his head as he considered the issue the boy had brought up with him. Of course he knew Sarah had problems with Pitch, it was obvious. No child had nightmares so frequently, and he had been searching into finding out how to stop them for years. Sandy hadn't had much luck... it was disturbing to know how warped his daughters mind was. Apparently even in the most blissful of sleeps, she had shadowy corners of her mind. Whatever Pitch had done to her, he had left deep emotional scars, and he grit his teeth as a million sinister possibilities raced through his mind, and his fists clenched and his knuckles turned white as he thought about what he'd do to the Nightmare King if he ever managed to get hold of him.

"What has she asked you?" he asked Jack slowly, looking up from under his bushy grey eyebrows at the teen who looked like a concerned brother. Like himself, Jacks' brow was knotted tightly, his eyes darker than usual, his normal crooked smile fixed into a surly frown. It didn't sit well with either of them.

"How I got over my fears, but I don't think I helped, I told her they were just bad thoughts, it was nothing to be afraid of."

"How did she take it?"

"Not well," Jack admitted, rubbing the back of his neck, "she said she was just having nightmares, but when I tried to get her to talk about it she said it was nothing and rushed off all upset."

North considered this, then his eyes narrowed and his head cocked to the side.

"She... rushed off. Where?" he asked, and Jack shot him a confused glance before sticking both of his hands in his hoody pocket.

"Here, I think," he muttered, looking out of the door he came through to the workshop where they Yeti were tinkering away, and elves were running around causing havoc with fairy lights and by knocking toys over. There was no sign of Sarah anywhere, and there was no indication she'd been back. She hadn't come to tell North she was home, and the older man gulped as he pulled one of his swords free of its sheath and walked out of his office and down the hall, Jack on his heels.

"I have bad feeling," the Russian muttered, looking sideways to Jack whose jaw was tense and eyes focused ahead. "In my belly."

They reached Sarah's room, and while North readjusted his grip on his sword Jack gripped his staff tighter. Slowly the older Guardian reached his hand out and turned the knob, and pushed the door open gently. If Sarah was inside, he didn't want to terrify her... but as it was, the room was empty. It was cold... and though the curtains were thrown wide open and the light was streaming through, it seemed dark. He could hear the slither of shadows in the room, and his blood froze as he looked around. Dark shadows seemed to shiver in the corners of the room, whispers of tiny, evil voices sounded out, taunting them both, and the pair narrowed their eyes.

Suddenly, a loud snort sounded, making both the men jump, and from under the bed a black nightmare stallion charged at them. They had but seconds to react, but they were quick enough, Jack blasting ice out at the attacking nightmare, and North whipped his sword arm around, slicing through the frozen monster and shattering it upon contact.

They entered the room then, and the shadows seeped away, the room returned to normal, except there was no sign of Sarah, and the nightmare beneath the bed was enough to tell the Guardians that Pitch was definitely part of this. The Russian approached his daughters bed, looking at the sheets which were crumpled. She never made her bed, but now he was faced with the prospect that Pitch had his baby, and depending on his intentions, she may never sleep in the bed again... never return to the Pole... he may never have his daughter back.

Clenching the fist not gripping the sword, he slammed it into the bedpost, anger swelling in him, and he shouted out in blind rage;

"derr`mo!"


	8. Chapter 8

Hey guys, we're closing on the end now, as there's only 11 chapters :)

Thanks for the reviews so far, I'm really happy with the story, I'm glad you are too

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North stormed back through to the main workshop, glanced up at the globe where billions of tiny golden lights glowed. He had taken a vow many years ago to protect all those little ones. As long as they believed in him, he would protect them. Yet he hadn't managed to protect the one that meant the most to him... when had he stopped being Sarah's Guardian, to make her belief in him stop? His own child...

He reached for the handle and in seconds had twisted it around and pushed it back in, punching in the emergency switch that sent out the Aurora Borealis lights around the globe, alerting the others to come to the Pole. He turned slowly, looking around at the Yeti who were watching him nervously, and he waved a hand dismissively at them, motioning for them to get back to work. Turning, he walked past Jack, who looked even more pale than usual if that were possible, and he walked to sit by the fire in his armchair, lying the sword down on the floor beside him and dropping his head into his hands.

Was he doing the right thing? Calling the Guardians here for one child... his child, but they had their own duties to get to, had their own responsibilities. He couldn't take care of his own child, couldn't take care of his own responsibilities... what kind of Guardian was he if he could guard his own daughter? And now she was in the clutches of Pitch, who could be doing God only knew what to her.

A hand lay gently on his shoulder, and North jerked his head up to look into the concerned violet eyes of Tooth, nodding slightly at her as she rubbed small circles on his shoulder, attempting to soothe him, calm him. As Bunny walked over slowly and tentatively and Sandy circled above their heads, they all looked to the leader of the Guardians to see what he had brought them here for. Though it was obvious it was something that weighed heavy on his mind.

"North, what's happened?" the fairy asked, kneeling before him so she could maintain eye contact, staring fixedly into his sad blue eyes. "What's wrong?" North felt as if he had a huge weight on his shoulders, felt himself slumped and heavy, unable to pick himself up as the situation ran over and over in his mind. He couldn't even so much as pick his head up, and the act of talking just seemed so much more difficult than usual.

"It's Pitch..." he started, his voice gruff and tired, and he felt exhausted by just uttering those two words. "He had Sarah."

There was a resound gasp from Tooth and Bunny, and Sandy dropped down a little to catch his eye, and a question mark appeared above his head in glittering gold sand. How? North only shook his head, not sure himself, not knowing how it had happened or why it had happened. He only knew that Sarah had been having nightmares, had been reluctant to tell anyone, had sought help from Jack which hadn't gone to plan, and now she was missing. With a wrench he stood up, gathered his thoughts, pulled himself together and in that instant he was fixed, focused, ready to tackle this and get his child back.

"I don't know how, but he has her, and I need to get her back," he said, his voice loud as usual, though there was more ferocity behind it, more determination. He felt the resolve within him.

"Course mate," Bunny agreed, nodding his head quickly, his evergreen eyes full of worry, "anything we can do?"

"I... don't know. We need to find his lair," North said quietly, stroking his beard and looking thoughtfully about. He felt like he'd failed. Not only as a Guardian, but as a father. All those years when he was woken up in the night by a crying child, telling him of nightmares and a bad man, he'd thought nothing of it. As much as it displeased him, Pitch and his nightmares were somewhat necessary in the world, as through learning your fears you were able to learn how to overcome them, learn from them, grow as an individual.

He remembered back, thought of her when she was only small, the first time she had one of her truly awful nightmares.

"_Papa!" the small child cried, pulling herself up onto his bed, tugging at his beard. Groaning and fighting the urge to roll over he opened his eyes and looked into the tear filled eyes of his only child, his beautiful little girl. Her hair was a tangled mess atop her head, and her nightgown was dirty with what looked like chocolate, and she looked every part the four year old._

"_What's wrong?" he asked gently, scooping her up close to him with one of his arms, enveloping her tiny frame and holding her close, stroking her hair as she began sobbing into his shoulder. He knew right away she'd had a nightmare, but never before had one left her in such a state._

"_I- I'm sor-sorry!" she choked, curling up tighter to him, her small hands clutching at his pyjama shirt, and her tears quickly making a damp patch on his shoulders, and he slowly rubbed her back, trying to calm her down while being left in a slight state of shock from her apology to him._

"_Why?" the Russian asked, pushing himself up and resting against the headboard, cradling the girl in his arms while she looked up at him, her eyes so like his, tears streaming down her face and she sniffled at him._

"_It's a-a-all my f-fault," she mumbled, slouching against him. "I didn't mean to," she added, her lower lip wobbling as she held back a fresh wave of tears. He didn't ask her what she was on about, he only cradled her, holding his baby close and trying to calm her, watching as she yawned widely and mumbled about whatever it was that was upsetting her. She seemed nervous, scared for some reason, and he kissed her gently atop her head, shushing her._

"_What is wrong, my malenkaya devotshka?" he asked, smiling down at her a little, trying to ease her mind._

"_I had a bad dream papa," she whispered, huddled up to him. "I'm sorry I hurt her..."_

_His heart dropped a little and he felt himself grow more and more concerned about what she was going on about. He couldn't think of anyone his child could have hurt, she was so small and innocent, such a loving person._

"_Who devotshka?" he asked quietly, his stomach knotting for an unknown reason, worry pitching there._

"_Mama," she whispered, and a fresh wave of tears poured down her face. "When I was born, I-I didn't know!" and she sobbed again, and he could do nothing more than pull her up so her head was on his shoulder, his arms wrapping around her body, and he could hush her and hold her and reassure her, though his heart broke knowing she thought she was the reason for her mothers' death. Yes, she had died as a result of childbirth, but it was hardly the girls' fault!_

_And after an hour of reassuring her, telling her it was wrong and she had nothing to do with her mothers' death, Sarah was curled into his side fast asleep, looking peaceful, and no nightmares plagued her. But he felt increasingly angry that Pitch could have insinuated such a thing to his daughter, could have made her feel she was the reason something so terrible had happened._

"I should have done something then..." he muttered to himself as the Guardians rushed about, talking to Mani and trying to determine where Pitch would have taken her, where his hideout could be... while all that went through North's mind was what that bastard could be doing... what his intentions were, and if Sarah was alright.

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malenkaya devotshka - Little girl, an endearing term in Russian


	9. Chapter 9

A final Happy Valentines Day everyone! May Cupid bring you love or at least a big tub of Ben&Jerries to drown your lonliness. But think about it, Valentines isn't just for lovers, its to show your love, affection and appreciation for those close to you. Tell your friends, parents, family and whoever else you love them, because it could put a smile on their face :)

Anyways, as it goes I hope you enjoy the spiraling depression this story is sinking into, and don't forget to review!

Two more chapters to go!

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She lay slumped against the bars of the cage, staring blankly out at the grey bricks of the walls, down at the open chasm below her that seemed to whisper to her, beckon her in, promise something... an end? She shifted slightly in the cage, wincing as her body protested movement, her joints grinding, and she felt tears escape the corners of her eyes. He'd abused her since she'd arrived, physically, sexually... he wanted to break her.

He had a long time ago, so she saw little point in this torture. For how many years had he tormented her mentally, made her jump at every little sound, scream at the shadows, cry at nothing, nothing at all.

The bottom of the cage was rough and sharp, and her bare legs had bled for so long and now they were blistered, and the floor was sticky with her blood, and she felt ill looking at the dried coppery red flooring beneath her, what used to be black. She was naked, curled up and trying to preserve her dignity, her arms crossed across her bare chest, her legs pressed tight together. She closed her eyes for a second, breathing in, trying to calm her nerves, but when she opened them she could help but scream at the golden eyes staring at her.

Pitch was sat outside the cage, looking in with a curious expression on his face. Her blue eyes met his gold, and what intrigued the pair was the difference they saw in the others. The Nightmare King saw how those blue what used to sparkle were now dull, dim... lifeless. Whereas Sarah looked into his golden orbs and saw how they seemed brighter, full of zest and vigour. He was stronger, whereas she was just clinging on by a thread. Not physically, he was keeping her fit enough, but her soul was weak, her mind was at breaking point. After the initial shock of him just appearing before her, she didn't look too bothered by him being there.

"You've lost your fight," he said quietly, reaching up and opening the cage door so he could look at her without the mesh between them. Everything about her seemed like it was dying, like she was giving up. He liked the fight in her, this was disappointing.

"You care?" she spat, and he smiled a little. It was still there, but it was just presenting itself in bitterness.

"I liked the fight in you, my darling," he said smoothly, grinning cruelly, and she tisked and looked away, shivering.

The silence between them then was deafening, and she trembled as that chill she always felt here began seeping into her bones, and she began to succumb to shivering, her body trembling as she shook, her muscles contracting and trying desperately to bring some warmth back to her, but there was no way she would. She felt his fingers trail over her legs, and she bit the inside of her lip, letting her eyes slide shut slowly as she gave in. He would take her body anyway, he had been doing. She stayed still and quiet as he took her in his arms, lifted her out and carried her from the cage into his home, not his lair. He took her through the living room, opened one of those two doors and carried her into his bedroom. Laying her nude body down upon the silk sheets, he stood back momentarily, looking at her. She let her big blue eyes flutter open again. He'd never brought her in here to take her before... this was his place, he didn't bring anyone in here, besides that one time he had done before with her, tended her wounds...

She looked at him, and he returned the gaze, before he stepped forward and sat on the bed beside her, one hand coming up and caressing her face gently, and he leaned over her, leaving a small trail of kisses over her protruding collar bone, his lips working their way up her neck with a trail of kisses while his fingers danced down her neck, sliding across her shoulder and down across her rib cage.

He stopped there, hand on her waist, lips hovering above hers, and he looked into her blue eyes, his golden eyes gentle, curious...

"Are you mine?" he asked, pressing his nose against hers.

"Yes," she whispered, submitting to him, too tired to argue.

"Are you going to take me up on my offer?" he pressed, adding, "never afraid, never alone... never forgotten?" There was a pause, she felt guilt wrap around her, but she felt his hot breath against her neck, felt his hand grip her waist a little tighter, and she nodded quickly.

"Yes," she agreed, staring into his eyes, and then all of a sudden she felt his lips on hers, passionate and hungry, but somehow also gentle, and it shocked her. He became very tender with her, his fingers trailing gently over her sides, sliding down over her hips, the curve of her buttocks and then stopping at the backs of her thighs which were cut up, scabbed and dried with blood.

He paused his assault on her lips, pulled away a little and looked down, thinking, before he pressed on, kissing her again, her lips were becoming swollen and red, she trembled beneath him, but this time it was different. She felt wrong, she felt terrible and sick and she wanted to hit him and run, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. She'd felt in his body before now just the need to use her. Gain strength from her fear, but this time it was different, as she was not afraid and there was nothing to gain from taking her body. It was simply the act of two people, forgotten and left at the sidelines, finding solace in one another. She couldn't bring herself to hate him for everything he had done. Sarah just couldn't bring herself to feel. She was past caring... she'd had enough. She'd give Pitch what he needed, but she'd come to the end of her tether... she couldn't carry on like this, and there was too much water under the bridge for her to move on.

She'd make sure she died here, either by Pitch's hand or in the clutches of nightmares, or she'd end it herself. Sarah St North could not carry on.

It had been three weeks, and the difference Pitch had shown to her was remarkable. A month ago he had hurt her and tortured her, haunted her dreams and abused her body. Now he showed something remarkably akin to tenderness. He showed such kindness to her, forced the Nightmares away so she could sleep in peace, treated her with compassion and... perhaps love? There was certainly a bond between them, in the oddest sense. They both understood the need for company, understood what it was like to be ignored and devalued. She learned to live with him. After the first night when he took her body again, she'd asked him not to sleep in the same bed with her. She'd sent him to the couch while she pulled the silk sheets about her, and she considered everything. To his credit, he hadn't been half as forceful as he could have been. He'd been tender and gentle and touched her in all the right places... or they would be right if she didn't feel so repulsed by the act of sex. It was all wrong, it was all hurtful, and she couldn't do it any more, so as considerate as she supposed he'd been in his own twisted way, she couldn't let him touch her like that again.

She started to feel like she wasn't really there any more. She knew where she was, what she was doing, could remain fixed in a conversation, but more often than not she would become vague, drift off either to sleep or into her own world. Her mind would stray to her father, and she would feel awful for staying with Pitch, but he would have killed her for opposing him. As he'd whispered into her ear one time he'd taken her before she agreed to join his side, she would never escape the shadows. She knew they'd drag her down to the abyss, and she would rot there.

It was one morning she woke up in a cold sweat, trembling head to toe and she'd fled the bedroom, past Pitch who was already settled on the couch with a book and out to the main chamber, ignoring the cages where she'd been imprisoned, ignoring the overwhelming sense of peril and destruction, she'd woken up after her sleep. No dreams, no nightmares, just whispers that came to her in the night, drawing her in and Sarah found herself waking up to feel fully unaccomplished, and she'd had enough. She was empty, she was a shell, but a husk of a human being, and she wanted out. She'd staggered across the room, ignoring the Nightmare Kings shouts for her to stop and wait and listen, ignoring the sound of his footsteps behind her, she reached the edge of the chasm and looked down. Those voices that whispered seemed to roar now, tigers and lions with their voices as soft as thunder, and she let out one sob as she went to heave herself up on the wall, and she lurched forward, intent on diving into that darkness and plummeting until she hit the bottom however long from now, and there would be no more screaming, no more fright, no more fear, no more torment.

She wouldn't have to see Pitch. She wouldn't be ignored. She would just be able to sleep again, and there would be nothing. No nightmares, the terrible truths she had come to know, and no dreams which were only beautiful lies. Nobody lived happily ever after, and she was a fool to think she would find hers.

Arms wrapped around her waist, and she was pulled back, away from her sweet end, and she shrieked loud and long, crying out for what she wanted... what she needed. She was so close, and he was stopping her. As hard as the blue eyes brunette tried to fight him, he just seemed stronger, and his resolve to hold on to her was far more impressive than her ability to escape.

"Let me go!" she sobbed, hitting weakly at his arms, clawing as she tried to reach the ledge again, where she could take the plunge. "Please! Its so close!"

Pitch ignored her, opening one of the cages and shoving her in forcefully, slamming the door shut and locking it before turning on his heel and striding away quickly, ignoring her shouts and her tears and the way she swore at him, watching from a distance as she attacked the bars of the cage and shook them, kicked out, threw herself against them in an attempt t break free. Pitch understood her desperation, but wouldn't free her now... He watched as she sunk to her knees on the cage, giving up slowly, before curling into the foetal position and crying herself to sleep.


	10. Chapter 10

One chapter left, and I hope you enjoy it. As I've mentioned in my other RotG fic, 'The End of Summer', I'll be going away for a week to my mothers whom I haven't seen since Christmas, so naturally I'm excited. They don't have computers though, so I won't be able to update.

My phone is still internet connected though, so I'll be able to reply to messages and see reviews should I recieve them :)

Anyways, enjoy, please, and review if you will.

* * *

Jack whizzed around between the Yeti, yet again gathering their accounts of the last time they'd seen Sarah. He'd heard it hundreds of times... she'd come in angry and upset, shoved a snow globe into Phil's hand and stormed to her room. They'd thought nothing of it, they knew how teenage girls were, she'd had a temper for years, but it only seemed to be showing recently. Sandy was sat not far away, the shards of the frozen nightmare in a heap in front of him, and he looked troubled, but then they all did recently. Tooth was running herself ragged, flitting in between the tooth Palace and the Pole, trying to get on with her duty while helping North. It made Jack ache inside knowing there was nothing they could do, and he looked up and across the room to where the Russian had been sat for the last few weeks, in his armchair, hands clasped and head down. He was staring at the snow glove Sarah had used last, had been tinkering with it, and now it was just a case of if it worked. The plan was to use to to get to Pitch's lair, but it was hard to tap into it, as he had strong magical defences.

It didn't stop the old man, each day he worked was a day they got closer to getting Sarah back, and the man worked tirelessly to achieve that. They all felt terrible for him, he was so close to losing someone so dear to him.

Bunny was sat with him now, balancing on his haunches while handing the other Guardian tools, offering input, but mostly just being there in case North spoke. He'd not uttered a word these weeks, only focused all his energy into finding Sarah... and there was nothing really Jack could do, besides leave them to it. He decided to check out her room again, look for any clues.

Pushing the heavy oak door open, he looked around and bit the inside of his cheek. The place seemed dead. There was a layer of dust coating every surface, and the bed remained unmade and messy. The shadows he and North had seen lurking in the corners had gone long ago, but the air was still thick with something sinister, and he gripped his staff more firmly as he made his way into the room. He checked under the bed, searching for shadows, and he looked in the closet and the wardrobe. Nothing. It felt like there was someone watching him, and he turned and looked into golden eyes, and felt a hand clap over his mouth to stop him yelling out.

"If you ever do manage to find a way in, I will kill you all. If you don't, I will kill Sarah. Your choice."

And then as soon as Pitch had appeared, he was gone again, and though in shock Jack stumbled from the room, crying out hoarsely for North as he lurched down the corridor. It felt like his heart had frozen to a stop, and he was breathing raggedly as he tried to recall how it had happened. What had happened.

"North!" he cried, throwing himself around the last corner and colliding head first with Bunny, who had heard him shouting and had come to investigate. The two crashed to the ground and the silver haired teen was only vaguely aware of the four pairs of eyes trained on him. His own icy eyes were wide and bulging and were struck with such panic he couldn't describe.

"Mate, calm ya socks!" Bunny cried, grabbing Jack by the back of his hoody and pulling him up to his feet.

"No! Pitch was here!" he cried, and some part of him expected shock, he did not expect North to barrel past him and charge to his daughters' room, standing in the doorway and looking expectantly. Jack caught up, and lay a hand on the behemoth's arm as he tried to explain.

"He... he threatened, that if we went to his place, he'd kill us," he told him in gasps. There was a resound pause around the Guardians, and North bowed his head and looked slowly to Jack, his blue eyes sad and full of doubt.

"And if we don't?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper. Jack felt his insides hurt, he couldn't bring himself to say it, so instead he shook his head and looked away, his hand snaking up and tugging nervously at his collar. It was enough information for the Russian, who tensed and felt anger swell in him. "Then I go."

"Oh, nu-uh, no way North! If you go we all go," tooth argued, but she was knocked out of the air by the look North gave her, filled with anger and power.

"If we all go, we all die. I am not taking that chance. Sarah is my daughter, so I go," he said firmly, turning and walking away from them.

"Mate, we're her Guardians," Bunny said quietly to the retreating form of the older man, and North stopped dead, his fists clenching. "We all go."

It looked like North wanted to argue, but he couldn't find the words. He only gave a small jerk of his head, inclining it somewhat before trodding off again to the main room, back to working on the snow globe.

* * *

She saw his shadow pass over her before she saw him out of the corner of his eye, looking down at her in her cage. She didn't make eye contact. In fact she didn't even move as she lay there, staring up to the top of the cage where the bars arched in to meet. Atop the cage sat a nightmare, a monkey of sorts, sharp teeth and nasty little claws, and he'd been screaming at her for hours, but she'd taken no notice. She didn't even flinch. All she felt was cold, overwhelming and terrible, but her body was used to the bitterness now, and she didn't tremble, shiver and shake like she did at first. Now she lay there, facing up, watching her breath unfurl in a puff of condensation.

What she found ironic was the light up above her, streaming in from what looked like a pinprick of a hole. It was bright and white, and contrasted to fiercely to the darkness around her that she wanted it blotting out. She hated anything bright now, she felt more than comfortable with the darkness, and as when he'd tormented her dreams, she felt the light was cold, teasing, and a cruel reminder of what should be. The freedom she should have was always out of reach, was always the seemingly harsh truth.

"Your father is on his way," Pitch said quietly, clasping his hands behind his back and looking into those vague blue eyes, those... dead, blue eyes. He felt bored with her now, she was apathetic to everything, and he didn't get the thrill he originally did from her, although he still felt some connection with her, as they were both lost and forgotten and tortured souls. Sarah almost didn't react to the news, but somewhere in the deep recesses of her mind that were still in tact she stirred at the news, and her head jerks a little, her eyes which had been fixed upward flitted to his face, and her lips parted slightly. "It would be a mistake if he came though."

"Why?" she asked after several moments pause, her voice strained and weak, her mind and body still past caring now.

"Why?" Pitch repeated. "Because, my darling, if he comes, I will kill him. And all the other Guardians."

Her eyes closed slowly, and her head tilted in his direction, as if she were processing the information. When her eyes opened again, there was still no emotion, and Pitch felt his eye twitch in annoyance, hoping for a larger reaction from her at the news he would kill her family. She took a breath, and he leaned in expectantly, hoping she would argue.

"Couldn't you just kill me now? Save them coming for me?" she muttered, and he smirked cruelly.

"Oh, my darling, I told your dear friend Jack that I would kill you if he didn't come, but I'm going to have done with you all anyway. Your dear 'papa' won't let you suffer, will he?"

At that moment there was an echoing bang around the cavern, and Sarah looked up again where the pinprick of light seemed to have grown, seemed brighter, but colder, more foreboding. A shout boomed around, making her eyes widen and her blood run cold.

"No," she whispered, sitting up quickly, her body protesting as she hadn't moved in so long. She shot a look to Pitch who was smirking nastily as he shrank back into the shadows, his lips not moving but his voice ringing clear as a bell in her head, all around her being and around the cavern, stirring up the voices in the abyss and bringing them to a shrill shriek.

"_Time for the games to begin..._"


	11. Chapter 11

Last chapter everyone! I wasn't going to post again, but I'm awake before daylight has even popped up and I decided I might as well wrap everything up here before I get on with my other jobs and fics. So this is it, the last chapter and we'll see what happens with Sarah now!

I would really like it if you reviewed, or shared the story with a friend, or anything really. Also, my other RotG fic 'The End of Summer' is coming along nicely, so check that out too if you like? (shameless plug is shameless)

Enjoy all, au'revoir.

* * *

Her body felt limp and lifeless, and though it was a struggle and a pain she managed to pull herself up by the side of the cage, leaning heavily against the bars and the mesh. She lurched sideways to grab hold of the side properly, balance herself, and the cage set to swinging side to side, leaving her feeling dizzy and sick.

"Sarah!" came a shout, and she moaned a little as Jack swooped down, hitting the side of the cage and clinging on, looking at her with the most horrified expression. She'd been left in her underwear as of late, as though Pitch knew her family would make it into his lair and he was giving her a little of her dignity back. But it left it obvious to see she had been abused, cuts and bruises littering her body, dried blood along the back of her legs, her hair limp and matted. The look in Jack's eye's was a mix of anguish and anger, and he struggled for words, left speechless and unable to utter another word to her.

"Leave," she told him, staggering to his side of the swinging cage, her dim blue eyes meeting his angry ice ones, her fingers twining through the mesh and brushing his, holding his hand as best she could in this situation. "Please, Jack, leave."

The younger teen shook his head at her, his silver hair falling into his ice blue eyes, confusion building up there, and he reached is fingers through the mesh to her, trying in vain to touch her, help her.

"I can't leave you," he told her, his voice low, "I can't... what has he done to you, Sarah?"

"Jack," she hissed, listening as the shadows around them hissed and slithered about. "You need to leave, he'll hurt you!"

"He'll hurt you if we do," the boy insisted, scooting around the cage to the door, wrestling with the handle, freezing the lock and snapping it off with sheer force. She watched, frustrated, as he wrenched the door open and looked expectantly to her, his hand outstretched.

"Come with me," he urged, and though hesitant she slowly extended her own hand, their fingers touching for a second before something caught her eye, and she jerked forward, grabbing hold of him and wrenching him inside the cage just as a nightmare ricocheted off the side where he had been, screeching as it went, and Jack instantly jumped back to the door as it galloped off, shooting a stream of ice sharps towards it, blasting it out of the air. "I've found her!" he yelled, and in a moment she saw the others come running from one of the tunnels, looking worse for wear.

She stared in shock as blood streamed from her fathers' nose, and the others looked a little worn out, but otherwise unscathed. Jack wrapped an arm around her and leapt into the air, ripping a scream from her throat as he went, and then they landed on the solid ground, and she pushed the boy away and stumbled sideways, her legs sending shooting pains through her body and she collapsed against the wall, breathing deeply as everyone looked at her in alarm, but non looked so angry as her father.

"Papa," she said quietly, knowing his temper was going to get the better of him, and she needed to tell him to keep his cool otherwise he would go charging into trouble. "Papa, don't do anything, please."

His blue eyes were fixed on her, and they were furious, he was scanning over every cut, every scratch, the copper blood covered her body, dried and crusted. Every second they were there was a second Pitch was watching them and planning an attack. They were all as good as dead if they didn't move.

"We need to leave," Tooth urged the group, dropping to her knees beside Sarah and touching her body gently, "North, she needs help, we need to get her out of here!"

"I don't think that's going to happen," came a smooth voice, far too calm and calculated, and Sarah felt her blood run like ice through her veins. She looked up and around, noticing how there seemed to be millions of yellow eyes fixed on the Guardians and the girl, and she knew they were too far outnumbered, too overwhelmed, but she also knew that they wouldn't leave her so only she was hurt, her father wouldn't leave her here, and he probably wouldn't leave until he had thoroughly throttled Pitch.

"Let them go," she whispered, closing her eyes, and in reply came a sinister chuckle only she could hear as it reverberated around her own mind, and she heard the voice of the being who had plagued her dreams when she was a child, who had tormented and tortured her since she had turned seventeen, who had made her life a living hell and her world unbearable, who revelled in her pain. After all... when your world was a nightmare, you could expect him to be there. He didn't have to say a word to her, he was going to have his way now, he was going to seek his vengeance from those two years ago when they defeated him, and she'd have to either sit here and watch the horror unfurl, or she'd have to get up and do something about it.

So she grabbed the wall behind her, focused herself and pulled herself up, staggering slightly, her muscles on fire and the need to sit back down was immense, but she ignored it, walked slowly to Bunny and took his knife from his belt, ignoring the shocked look he gave her.

"If we fight, we fight together," she said quietly, looking up at her father and maintaining eye contact with her dad and though she saw the troubled expression there, he nodded solemnly. Sarah felt very vulnerable, standing in nearly nothing, but she felt vulnerable anyway, as Pitch had such a grip on her mind...

Then everything blurred. It was a mix of noise and silence, of light and dark, ups and downs and she didn't know what was what. She was aware of things hitting her, she was aware she was hitting back. Waves of black sand after black sand, golden eyes flickering past, and she screamed out as something hit her in the chest, knocking her backwards, and she looked at the nightmare monkey, baring its teeth at her, screaming and wrapping sharp claws around her neck, and biting sharply into her arm as she swiped at it to fight it off. The pain as its teeth sunk in was incredible, and she grit her teeth and hissed as she went to hit at it again, but her body felt suddenly limp, she couldn't move her arms for some reason. She heard many cries around her then and something tore the nightmare away from her, and it disintegrated in their hands, and the person knelt down beside her, their fingers tracing slowly across the puncture wounds.

The screams stopped, everything went quiet, and she looked up at the person clutching her arm, saw those golden eyes glint back at her, and she saw something in them that shocked her to the core, made her curious... in his golden eyes she saw fear and remorse and some desperation. She felt his hand press against the fresh wound, heard him say something... a whispered apology. Then he was gone, and she saw her father slamming him into a wall, his sword pressed against Pitch's jugular.

"Papa!" the brunette yelled, adrenaline shooting through her and she managed to propel herself forward off the floor with such speed and ferocity that when she collided with her father she knocked him sideways, but she managed to twist his arm away from Pitch, managed to grab the Nightmare King by the throat herself and pin him against the wall. "Leave him alone!" she told him, her voice powerful, forceful, her eyes piercing his with more strength than anyone thought possible.

"What?" Pitch asked, shocked and astounded at her sudden mercy for him, and she tightened her grip around his throat. But her father seemed like he agreed, sharing in Pitch's confusion and he shot her a quizzical look.

"I don't want you to stoop to his level papa," she told him quietly, keeping Pitch exactly where she wanted him, but her vision was blurring a little, and she didn't understand. "You're... you're better than that."

Her stomach was turning rapidly and she heaved before she doubled over and threw up, only vomiting water in her malnourished state, and she dry heaved after that, the arms supporting her now were those of the man she'd had pinned by the throat, but he was thrown off by her father and she was pulled into his warm embrace, cradled like a babe. Sarah couldn't feel anything but excruciating pain in her arm, which was spreading rapidly through her body, fire and ice merging in her blood, burning like acid. She wanted to cry out, but all the teen could manage was the squeeze her eye closed tight, throw her head back and open her mouth in a silent scream. Her body started jerking, spasming, she moaned a little, unable to bear it and she felt panic grip at her. She could hear the Guardians arguing with Pitch who was trying to insist something, and she forced her eyes open in time to see Jack hit the Nightmare King square in the face, his fist connecting at high speed with the bastards jaw, and she felt a small smile grace her lips even through this burning pain at the crack that echoed around, the look of pain that flickered across his face, before he hit the ground and was knocked unconscious. She felt some gratitude towards Jack then, she'd have hated for her father to hit him because to her her papa had always been the cuddly giant and protector, not the attacker.

"What's happening?" she heard her father ask, his voice panicked but somewhat like a distant echo, feint and hard to reach, she felt her ears straining, and her eyes rolled back in her head leaving her unable to focus, blind...

She knew what it was. When the nightmare had bitten her like it had, it had infected her with fear. And though the pain felt intense and terrible, it also felt familiar, like something she knew and had known her whole life. It spread quickly through her body and she knew it wasn't going to end well, but there was nothing she could do now. Sarah could just about feel small, cool hands on her skin, knew it was Sandy trying to find a way to reverse this effect, to stop this, but the longer it went on the more she felt tired, the heavier her arms felt, the harder it became to breathe and think. Sand was clogging her veins, she realised with a small frown.

This was a terrible way to die.

Better than plunging into an abyss she knew nothing about though, she mused, breathing deeply through her nose as she tried to focus on her surroundings, open her eyes and look ahead. If she'd jumped over that ledge then she could well have dived right into the midst of a load of nightmares. She wouldn't have liked that, at least this way she felt she had some semblance of what was going to happen. Slowly the fear would overcome her mind and heart, entrap her soul, smother her, plunge her into a world of darkness. She didn't know if she'd come back like Pitch... she hoped not. He couldn't really remember his life before the fear, and she wanted to remember the hot chocolate her papa made for her, wanted to remember those Summers' spent in the Warren where she would escape Bunny's arms and dive head first into one of his paint ponds, climbing out moments later absolutely purple and leaving footprints and splatter patches on the green grass until the Pooka could catch her again, laughing at her. She wanted to remember how she'd found a truce with Jack, how he was kinder and lovelier than she'd ever expected, ever given him credit for. She'd rather die now with those few happy memories clutched close to her, not let the fearlings steal them away. She felt terrible for her father, who was holding her heavy and twitching body close, helpless to the situation. He was just telling her quickly and quietly how much he loved her, how he would always love her and if she held on he'd help her become stronger. How she was the best thing in his life... how he couldn't carry on without her. It formed a lump in her throat, and she wanted to tell him to be strong, that she wouldn't be gone forever, she'd always be with him. She'd promise it, but she didn't know how to. Her throat seemed to be closing, making her gasp for air. She wasn't long left for the world.

Then she blinked and the shadows were gone, the pain in her body faded to something almost euphoric, blissful...

That pinprick of light she had seen up above the cavern, that before seemed so cold and so far away was brighter, warm, tickled her skin and made her feel aglow with things she had not felt in years. It was light and happy and simple, and she basked in it while she could. The light spread around the cavern, chasing the shadows away and casting a pale glow over everything, warming the place, warming her, making her forget her troubles for just a moment as she breathed deeply.

"Sarah," came a quiet voice, and she turned her eyes to stare into icy depths, trembling as his fingers brushed her cheek and he stared into her eyes sadly, tears pricking at his. "Can- can you hear me?" Jack asked, taking hold of her hand, sending chills shooting through her fingers, numbing them.

"Ye... yes..." she whispered, her voice just above a breath.

"Fight it," he told her, gripping her hand tight, but he could tell she was too far gone to fight against the fear. Her skin had turned almost instantly white, there was no flush to her skin, and her eyes... that was the most harrowing thing to look at. Her eyes which had been a crystalline blue were now the darkest black, the whites of her eyes were terribly bloodshot, and they seemed like doors to her soul... there was nothing but darkness and fear there, and there was no going back for her, it was all too much for the girl. She'd struggled with Pitch for years, and it seemed he finally won. He couldn't let him win, couldn't allow her to lose to the monster. "Listen, don't give in," he choked, leaning in so his lips were against her cheek, his breath tickling her neck and ear. "Don't give him the satisfaction of winning."

He was surprised to hear a breathy chuckle, and he pulled away to look at her, shocked by the small smile on her face, not sure what to do.

"I've won," she told him, her voice a little louder, but more shaky. "He won't hurt me any more." Her blackened eyes turned from his face to her fathers, and for a moment she watched as great tears rolled from his eyes and hid in his beard. "He won't hurt me any more papa... it's okay. You... you'll be okay, won't you?"

North nodded, but didn't utter a word, too overwhelmed with emotion to speak. Her head dropped sideways and she looked at Jack again, and it made him start to see the black fading, the blue of her eyes trickling back into the iris' like water, forcing the darkness out.

"Take care of him?" she asked, her voice low and serious, no weakness sounded but she winced and a lone tear slipped from the corner of her eye. Jack bit his lip, nodding at her and promising he would as he reached out to cup her cheek and wipe the tear away.

"Course... can't you stay Sarah?" he asked, his voice trembling as tears threatened his eyes too. She only smiled, her eyes drooping as death weighed on her, and she shook her head gently.

"Can't... sorry Jack," she muttered, and she weakly gestured to the top of the cavern where the light was glowing, sending a bright light over them, making them all look like they were glowing. It made her smile, how what had been so dark was now light. She felt at peace. Jack looked up at the roof, the light making his eyes look almost white.

"There are dark shadows on the earth... but the lights are brighter in contrast."

Jack looked down at Sarah as she spoke, her voice ebbing away into whispers, and she breathed deeply as her eyes fluttered, the light in the blue orbs dimming, and she looked up at her father for the last time, watching as tears streamed from his matching blue eyes. With the last of her strength she reached up and touched his cheek, her fingers brushing the tears away as he heaved a sob and begged her to hold on. She smiled a little, feeling calmer and happier as her hand lowered again, no strength left to hold it up, and she felt him hold her tighter, pull her into his chest as her breath became more shallow and a lot slower, her eyes sliding shut as she slid into a deeper sense of tranquillity, feeling sleepy as she listened to the constant thudding of her fathers heart, as hers slowly faded out.


	12. Epilogue

Here is my epilogue. It was rushed and not very well thought out, but I've left it open for me to do a sequal, and I will be doing! It's called 'Master of Darkness' and I'll be writing it very soon, I hope :)

So, keep an eye out, subscribe, review, be nice.

Enjoy

* * *

He'd been punished for what he did.

He was lucky North hadn't murdered him, because he knew very well the Russian wanted to. He'd had ripped him limb from limb if he'd had the chance, for what he did to Sarah.

He would have deserved it.

He never meant for it to go so far, never meant for _her_ to die anyway. But that damned nightmare. That little shit of a nightmare attacked her, and he was powerless to stop it. Or he wasn't, but he hadn't realised the nightmares had a mind of their own and were so intent on causing more than just bad dreams. He supposed he had made her life into one terrible dream though, it all just blended into one unmanageable hell for her whether she was conscious or not. He'd known she was read to give up, that day she went to jump into the abyss. She would have found herself falling into the hungry jaws of fearlings and shadows, but she would have died. Just more terribly than she did, had that been possible. Although she was poisoned by the nightmare, infected and consumed so much by fear that her heart gave out, she was at least surrounded by those she loved. Frost had had a good swing at him, cracked his jaw and sent him sprawling, and he'd lost consciousness. He recovered it not long afterwards. North was cradling his dying daughter while Tooth was clinging to the rabbit, staring on in horror while the seemingly tough Pooka was fighting back tears. Sandy was there too, hovering over them all, helpless to stop Sarah's pain.

Jack was knelt beside Sarah, holding her hand, begging her to fight the fear and stay with him. Reassuring her that everything would be okay. The boy had obviously loved her.

Pitch knew that, because he loved her too. In his own way. Though he'd tormented her all her life, she was the only being in the world who had extended a helping hand to him, who trusted him even a little, though she shouldn't have, in all fairness. She was the only one who really understood what it was to be forgotten, and though he used that small fact to his advantage to make her feel insignificant, it rung true for him too. He'd been forgotten about. He was nothing, a nobody, he was just the person to be left behind in the shadows. He didn't matter, and neither did she. Of course, her father loved her, every parent loved their child, but as much as he denied it, as much as he told himself and his daughter and everyone else he didn't blame her, a small part of him, buried in the deepest, darkest recesses of his mind, whispered that because of Sarah, the love of his life had died. He was left every day from then on to take care of a girl who had the exact same eyes as the woman he'd fallen for, only to be reminded that she was dead now.

Pitch knew. He'd seen the parts of North's mind he didn't want people to know about. The man didn't now that though, and it would be in his best interests not to let him know either.

Now she was dead like her mother, and he'd been locked in the very darkness he'd kept her in to be tormented by his own nightmares. They had been locked up with him, and they were hungry, and they were angry. Angry with him for failing, again. He knew they were like this, if they didn't get the fear they needed they would turn on him, if only for a small while, but they were terrible creatures. Pitch lay down on the cold floor, a small circle of light streaming in through some gap somewhere way above him, maybe miles, maybe only meters, but he didn't want to stand up and find out, he simply couldn't. He was too weak to.

Sighing, he closed his eyes, and he felt a burning sensation on his stomach where one of the nightmares lashed out at him. It was quickly followed by another, but on his arm. And soon the attacks started all over his body, burning like whips, and he grit his teeth as they screamed out at him, berating him, trying to feed from him. He'd been afraid of the nightmares once, let them drag him down into the deepest pits of his darkness and tortured him there, drawn so much strength from him through his fright. He wouldn't give them the satisfaction ever again. Reaching up he grabbed one of the sand creatures and shattered it within his fingers. With a push he threw the others off him, standing with such speed it made his head go light and fuzzy, and it took him a second to regain his balance.

He looked about, where the nightmares had gone silent, thousands of golden eyes looking at him. He looked back, his gaze unwavering. Lifting one arm, he extended his fingertips to them, summoning what power he had left and he closed his hand quickly, forming a fist. The nightmares disintegrated before his eyes, crumbling to the floor in heaps of glittering black sand.

The Nightmare King stood there, breathing heavily as he turned away from the sand and closed his eyes, deep in thought.

He needed fear to survive, lest he become nothing more than a complete shadow, never to be seen again. But could he perhaps scale down what he did? Was fear really just as powerful in smaller doses? He remembered back to the dark ages, those glorious times where everyone would tremble in his wake, where he was seen, and recognised, and feared. Where a whispered word here and a well placed thought there could instigate a witch hunt. They were simple times. Great times.

But Sarah, he knew, had seen fear as something different. Perhaps it was set in just before a test, if you didn't study, or it churned in your stomach before you peaked over the top of a roller coaster. It could be the thrill before you started driving for the first time. Fear could make you feel sick and feel exhilarated, but he'd never instilled it in people like that. Fear, or at least his fear, had been set in to terrorise people. He'd plagued them. He'd become a monster, compared to what he had been, all those millennia ago. He couldn't remember much from before he was Pitch Black. Flickers of gold, the feeling of glory, overwhelming protections... then nothing. He knew nothing...

"Time to change," he muttered, the feeling of guilt still fresh in his stomach, despite it having been months since Sarah St North's death, and he closed his eyes, felt the darkness melt around him. "Time to reform."

As he opened his eyes, he saw he was in his chambers, the chains and cages dusty and hanging from the ceiling, swinging ever so slightly from some imaginary breeze, clinking together. There were more nightmares here, who upon seeing him reared their ugly heads and charged for him, angry. He did to them what he had with the others. They fell to his feet in piles of black sand, and he iced them away as he trod through them, his face set. Eyes focusing on the globe he had, he bit the inside of his cheek, training his eyes to where he knew there would be tension.

And there it was, a town in the middle of the United Kingdom, and all the high school children were but a week away from their exams... he grinned in smug self satisfaction, and spoke to nobody in particular;

"Time for some pre-exam jitters, don't you think?"


End file.
